Blah Blah Vampire Emergency Blah aka Law&Order:Shr
by Blackpen Enaru
Summary: Sheriff Northman lays down the law, unless he's breaking it. Nothing wrong with taking out the V dealing garbage. The law begs to differ, but Eric knows how to get himself out of a tight spot. Or into one, for that matter. dramedy
1. Chapter 1

**FORMERLY LAW AND ORDER: SHREVEPORT**

**Long Winded Author's Note/Rant:**

What's this story about?

While poor Eric is trying to deal with his blah blah vampire emergency blah's in the way he knows best, there's a dramatic shift in the human leadership. Instead of turning a blind eye to vampire transgressions that don't affect (nonfangbanging) humans, the new pinstripe and stiletto clad head of the Supernatural Crimes Unit of the DA's office wants to crack down on all vamp crime. Not good for PR.

Oh no, not another OC/Eric story!

I usually hate OC's. I generally refuse to read them. I will make an original character OOC before I make an OC. But Eric could use some fresh blood, and my OC is not the heroine of a bodice ripper. She is here to add an unexplored dimension to the show and the books to make the post-Reveal world more authentic. Like honestly, does no one hear the screams for help from Eric's basement?

Is this pro/anti (_insert character here_)?

I'm a book reader and a True Blood watcher. I have no qualms with Sookie Stackhouse. I like the actress. I think book Sookie (at least in the early books) is hilarious and likable. But after having seen Season 4, episode 11, WTF! She has become a Mary Sue. The love triangle has become contrived. She doesn't have the oomph to attract either Bill or Eric. I cannot believe that she is tearing apart Pam and Eric, despite their 100 years together of fucking, killing, and laughing. I can't believe that both King Bill and Sheriff Northman are willing to die, and risk an entire race for a "gash in a sundress." Pleeeaaaase. This is True Blood, not Truly Blond.

Set before Season 4. Some minor plot details have been modified.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>"Northman," Eric Northman answered into the receiver. Thankfully he had remembered to change his ring tone after that embarrassing confrontation with Russell Edgington. He very well could not have <em>Let's Have Fun<em> chirping from his T-Mobile Sidekick in front of cowering Fangtasia patrons, one of whom was creeping up to his foot at this very moment.

"You've been keeping up with the news?" came a familiar icy voice.

Eric stiffened, but not enough for anyone to notice. He didn't become sheriff of the largest area in Louisiana by trembling in fear and kissing babies. Kissing ass—that was a different matter. As long as the ass was attached to vampires more powerful and important than he.

"Ms. Flanagan. How may I be of service?" he replied coolly but not too coolly. She was in charge of the vampire _Gestapo_ after all. The very undead police that had raided Fangtasia, kept him imprisoned at his own bar, and sent him off on a suicide mission to kill Edgington, and worst of all, stood guard while the Magister tortured Pam—his annoying, shoes obsessed, lazy but loyal, only child. By Thor, he hated that bitch Nan.

"The Authority orders you to take care of Dana Marsh," Nan said in a clipped tone. Always to the point, whether on or off camera. "This order never existed."

The Viking's expression didn't change. "I'll put Ruben on it." Then Eric remembered that his assassin was dead. Damn. At least the loss wasn't completely in vain; it had given Pam the opportunity to prove that Eric had trained her well. Still, hitmen, especially good ones, were hard to find these days. It wasn't as if he could put up a Craig's List ad.

"No, Eric." Nan's voice could have drained even more color from a lesser vampire's face. But Eric Northman was not a lesser vampire. "No bloodshed, nothing that leaves evidence. Persuade her to drop the Phystler case, or settle it quietly."

That wasn't much, considering that vampires, and now shifters, had been out in the open for 4 years and 5 months, respectively.

"You know where to find her?" Nan pressed. "If you leave now you should be able to catch her at her office."

"Yes."

Without another word, Nan hung up.

Eric fumed for approximately half a minute. No one ordered him around. Unless it was in bed. Even that happened very rarely. This reminded him of Pam when she was a baby vamp…

The sheriff stood from his throne, stretched until he had a satisfactory number of eyes glued on him, and strolled out the door. Before flying off, he grinned as he caught the look in Pam's eye. She hated being left alone to enthrall the vermin. Her words, not his. She had always been the eloquent one.

##

I glared at the clock and popped the top button on my suit vest. As much as I hated to admit it, it was a little snug, especially when I was sitting down. I had bought it a size down so it wouldn't bulk up my frame when I wore the matching jacket over it. At barely 5'1, (5'4 in the highest heels that I thought were appropriate for my line of work) too many layers could make me look as wide as I was tall.

I loved this suit. The jacket had peaked lapels, the vest had a scooped shawl collar neckline, and the pencil skirt buttoned halfway up the back. It was a very dark, almost metallic, shade of charcoal. I had stalked all 3 pieces on the Express online catalog for 5 weeks before it finally went on sale. My pinstriped blouse with a ruffled bib front—I had paid full price for, but you can't have everything. If I was going to lose a trial, it would not be because Juror #5 or #8 thought I was dressed too frumpy. It was astonishing how jurors could fixate over a woman lawyer's jewelry or clothes while they were supposed to be paying attention to the—_ahem_— evidence, while a person's freedom was at stake.

I plopped a file back on my desk with a little more force than necessary and rubbed my eyes. (More accurately, I delicately massaged my eyelids because I didn't want to make a mess of my drug store brand mascara.) I was accustomed to working late, but not this late.

"Don't complain," I muttered to myself. "You're the youngest person to ever head a division in this office." Not just any division. The brand new Supernatural Crimes unit. I answered to the District Attorney himself. Unfortunately, this meant I had to do much of my work at night if any of my cases had vampires involved. Why couldn't real life vampires walk around in the day like those Twilight vampires? I'd take sparkly lovestricken bloodsuckers over the ones that I had to deal with. I glanced at one of the files on my desk and shuddered. That Phystler defendant was a nasty one. On the other hand, poor Eddie Founei. Drained by a band of redneck V addicts as if he were a giant Slurpee.

"Good evening," came a smooth voice. It was like velvet wrapped in block of ice.

I yelped. The giant man filling the doorway to my office had not been there a split second ago. I grasped around for the panic button, knocked over a half eaten tray of microwaveable junk that I wouldn't feed to my paper shredder, righted said half eaten tray of junk, then paused when I got a second look. _Wah wah wee wah_, I thought. I had watched Borat for the 5th time last night, while gulping down Chinese takeout. _Very nice, how much_. Probably a lot. If my days as a rookie prosecutor trying vice cases were any indication, the 'los always charged more than the ho's. Unfair.

"May I help you?" I managed. I sat up straighter and wondered how the _hell_ this intruder got in here after hours. Judging by the stares I often felt on my ass, and sometimes my breasts, the all male night guards were very heterosexual (or extremely closeted), and my unexpected visitor was most definitely male. Very male. I couldn't imagine that he had flirted his way in. Also, you needed to swipe your ID card just to get in the office. I didn't recognize him as a defense attorney, not that one would be visiting me this late. Lawyers didn't dress… like that. However, my instinct wasn't screaming _RAPIST_! or _SERIAL_ _KILLER_! Not that looks weren't deceiving.

In a few long strides, the mystery man eased himself into the only empty chair in my office. The 2 other chairs were covered with papers, coffee stained mugs, and to my horror, a pair of stinky, dirty pantyhose with a giant run up the side. The white diamond on the crotch of the hose was ceiling up, in full view.

"You are Miss Marsh. Dana Marsh for the People of the state of Louisiana," he murmured, without that cute drawl that was the norm in these parts. So he wasn't a native either. I didn't bother to inform him that "Ms." was the politically correct term these days, although I was very much a Miss. He looked me up and down, so I looked back.

As we sized each other up, and there was a lot of him, maybe 6'3, all hard muscle, I wondered how any man could appear undoubtedly heterosexual in a low cut black shirt and a black leather jacket with a collar that flared up and out at the neck. If he had been a woman, his breasts would have been spilling out of that top. Wasn't there a term for that? Manvage? Chevage? Heavage. His dark jeans were tight. So I wasn't the only person in this room who liked to wear a size down, although I'd bet he wore his shoes a size up. Unless his feet really were that big. I caught a whiff of his cologne, which had to have an illegal dose of pheromones. Perhaps that was why I had yet to push the panic button. Perhaps that was how he avoided getting constantly beaten up by drunken homophobes in the deep South.

"You look taller on TV," he finally remarked. His expression remained cold and unreadable.

"I never saw you on TV," I replied. "And you are?"

"Eric Northman."

The name sounded oddly familiar.

"If you're involved in any of my cases, as a witness or a defendant, there are strict rules about when and how I may talk to you," I started carefully.

He smiled sweetly, like he was one of those people who caught bugs in their house and set them free outside. Then he leaned closer and folded his arms on my desk. "Do I look like a criminal?"

Sure, he could pass for Head Thug of a GQ motorcycle gang. Or maybe the token Aryan member of the Triads. They were known for being very well dressed, at least in the Jackie Chan movies I loved to watch.

"Is there a purpose for your visit, Mr. Northman?" I swallowed. Herpes, gonorrhea, chlamydia, I recited to myself. Don't hump his leg. Don't stand up to peer at his crotch. Don't stare at his heavage. It had been a long time since certain needs of mine had been satisfied, and an even longer time since a man like him looked at me the way he was.

"You're not going to remember that I came by tonight." His voice was so beautiful, so seductive, and I wanted to do nothing more than obey. Preferably on my knees.

"I'm not?" But I really wanted to remember him. I wanted to burn those chiseled features—Northern European maybe?- in my brain so I would have a happy image to think of when I was cold and alone in bed. Or in the shower. Or falling asleep on the couch after one of those stupid rom coms I secretly liked to watch. But if he insisted, I wanted to please him.

"No," he continued in that soothing, lovely voice of his. "And you're going to drop the Phystler case."

I nodded slowly, even though my brain was not quite registering. Sort of like the way it had been on a crazy Halloween party night in my sophomore year of college. Or on the third day of the bar exam, when I was high on 5 shots of espresso and 3 Red Bulls. I picked up one of the files on my desk and opened my hand, letting it fall to the floor. "I did it," I said proudly. I hoped he'd reward me.

Eric's glacial blue eyes flickered with impatience. "You're going to drop the _charges,"_ he said slowly and clearly. "You're going to drop the charges against Donovan Phystler because there isn't enough evidence. Do it by tomorrow."

Without breaking his gaze, I didn't want to, I knelt down and picked up the file I had dropped on the floor and hugged it protectively. I was very familiar with its contents. It held detailed police reports, witness statements, and graphic photos that I planned to have blown up for the jury. Pictures of 28 year old Desiree (aka Honey)- drug addict, stripper, former beauty queen. Heavy, carefully applied makeup flaking off of that Botoxed, lasered, sculpted, lifted face. Diamond studs in her ears, Tiffany's bracelet on her wrist, Cartier necklace around her neck, old and new bite marks all over her body, courtesy of Donovan Phystler. Allegedly. Left to rot in her own bed.

"Ummphh," I managed. What I wanted to do was push that damn panic button and tell him, "No, Mr. Northman, if that's really your name, I have enough evidence to get a conviction for first degree murder in 5 minutes, and please stick around for the guards to arrest you for attempting to tamper with a pending criminal case and influencing an officer of the court." Instead, I took a step back, still clutching the file.

Eric's eyes were like deep pools of molten sapphires, or whatever. They were striking and I was terrified of disappointing him. "Not enough evidence," he repeated softly. Without breaking his stare, he somehow zipped right in front of me. Whoosh, just like that. He gripped my face in his hands and my knees bucked. My body was screaming for release.

I couldn't refuse him. I didn't want to refuse him. But I had to. I took an oath to do justice, to stand up for those victims that were too afraid to stand up for themselves, the innocent, blah blah blah. I bit down and tasted brackish liquid in my mouth. Eric's eyes widened ever so slightly, he raised a finger to my lips, traced along the inside, then brought his finger to his tongue. He licked off my blood slowly, as if sampling it. Yuck. Or maybe not yuck. This man, or whatever he was, could slaughter a newborn puppy and still look sexy doing it. I noticed for the first time he had sharp fangs.

"Hmmm. Very interesting."

Suddenly, my senses rushed back to me. "What the _fuck,"_ I cried. I shoved him back and ended up stumbling back in the process. I realized that my sweat had soaked through my blouse, even though it was a cool night. Oh no. I'd have to get everything dry cleaned again. If I made it through the night.

I started jamming at the panic button at the approximate speed of 5 jabs per second. I kept my eyes lowered.

"Goddamnit, goddamnit," I muttered. Where were the cops? Cops were supposed to like prosecutors. They were supposed to rush to our aid. Had I done something to piss one of them off? Was this some kind of joke? More likely, the button was malfunctioning. I grabbed my phone and started to dial 911 but Eric gripped my wrist faster than I could blink. Maybe I shouldn't have taken the Lord's name in vain.

"Relaaax," drawled the vampire. "No need to be alarmed by my charms."

"Charms my ass," I muttered. I had always tossed aside vampire hypnosis as a crazy conspiracy theory. I stared at the floor.

He brought a gentle hand to my chin and raised my face to meet his. I hastily shut my eyes but they flew open in shock when he swatted my ass! In a flash, he drew back and met my eyes before I could avert them again. Goddamnit. I mean, Lord save me.

"I was never here," he purred. "This never happened."

Well, that was ok. This was all too weird for me anyway. "Will I see you again?" I asked breathily. I didn't care that I sounded like a 15 year old girl with asthma.

"Come to Fangtasia this Friday, the bar with a bite. Bring all your friends." He licked at the inside of my lower lip, then he was gone.

#

"Murder 2." I kept my voice level despite my growing impatience. I had other hearings to attend, more cases to plead out. "Life in prison. I won't ask for the stake. Final offer." It was a more than generous offer, one that most of my colleagues would not have made.

"Involuntary manslaughter," replied Johan Glassport, who was rapidly becoming one of my least favorite defense attorneys. From the little I heard of him, I wouldn't put it past him to knife a hooker so he wouldn't have to pay. "Early release for good behavior."

"Your client is facing Murder 1 and the stake." As if he needed any reminding. "I have DNA evidence."

"Saliva on a fresh bite mark doesn't prove premeditation and intent. Vampires get carried away sometimes, especially with eager young things like your… '_victim'_." _She was asking for it_, Glassport's smirk implied.

"Six hundred year old vampires don't get carried away," I said quietly. "They get bored of their pets." Before I could launch a monologue about the stomach capacity of a vampire, a vampire's lessened need for blood after reaching a certain age, the rate at which a human body can be drained, and the subculture of vampires treating "fangbangers" like subhumans, the judge hastily cleared his throat. He didn't want me to summarize the entire hearing for him again.

"If I may interject." Judge Cannon had a boyish enthusiasm for his work and at times an inappropriate sense of humor. He looked like a cuddly grandfather in a black robe. "If I'm understanding this right, the People," he nodded at me, "are alleging that the victim was the defendant's lady friend until the defendant felt that she had exhausted her usefulness, then he exhausted _her_." He chuckled at his own pun and I smiled to humor him. "And Mr. Glassport," my opposing counsel got a nod, "is saying that drinking blood is what vampires do, these accidents happen, and it's not cold blooded murder, especially if the victim is hussying around with vampires."

This case was actually much more complicated than that, but I kept my mouth shut and nodded. I didn't want to piss off the only judge in Shreveport who was kind enough to hold this trial at night so the defendant and my vampire witnesses could attend. Otherwise we'd have to hold the entire trial in New Orleans (the vampire capital of the east coast) to be heard before a vampire judge who had gotten his law license in the 19th century. Ughhhh.

"And it seems like we're not going to reach a plea agreement today."

More assent.

"Anything further either side?

"No, Your Honor," I said.

Glassport replied in kind.

"Based on the evidence presented, the court finds sufficient cause to order the defendant to stand trial on the charge of murder in the first degree. The court is now in recess." Cannon rubbed his hands together in glee and looked over at the empty chair next to Glassport. "I sure hope your client will be kind enough to join us for then. He sounds like a real character."

"Allegedly," the defense attorney added. We all laughed.

The defendant had waived his presence to be at this preliminary hearing, by making a giant scene and refusing to let the bailiffs escort him into the courtroom. I presumed he was still sulking in his silver cell in the level below us.

The murder 1 charge was going to stick. We were going to trial. Feeling thrilled about this minor victory, I started collecting my things.

"Earth to Ethan," I sang to the vampire who had been sitting next to me throughout the entire hearing. After his part was done, he had gone into his zone out phase, just sitting there and not moving until he was needed. He did that sometimes. He was the primary detective in this case. As a human, he had come from a long line of law enforcement officers. He was turned in the 50's and now he would never have to retire.

"We'll talk back at your office," he said. He jerked his head at the Channel 4 news person packing up a giant camcorder. I was starting to get used to having most of my hearings and trials televised. Apparently the American public was fascinated by anything that involved vampires.

Ethan stood unusually close to me as we walked down the hall and up the elevator. This was one of the perks of being a prosecutor rather than a defense attorney. Your office is never far from the courtrooms, where you're spending most of your time anyway. I swiped my card at the little box and pushed the door open. We made our way around the maze of cubicles, I popped my head into someone else's office to say hi, and we finally reached my office at the far end. My second home.

Once I got settled behind my desk, Ethan remained standing. "What?" I asked. He was making me worried.

"You should start wearing silver," he said finally. "Lots of it."

"You're giving me fashion advice now?"

He didn't even crack a smile. "Donovan Phystler is a very powerful vampire. And there are more like him."

"I've done gang cases before," I told him with a lopsided smile. "I'm still here. And I've also put rapists and child molesters and murderers in jail but none of them got to me. Even after they got out of jail." I paused and I realized I sounded like I was reassuring a little kid. Ethan was probably about 90 between his human and vampire years. "I guess the child molesters wouldn't be too interested in me anyway." Typical office humor when you're dealing with these sorts of things on a daily basis.

Normally, Ethan would have guffawed but instead he just stared at me.

I sighed heavily. "I'm supposed to meet with the vampire king soon." He had specifically requested my presence.

"Well he's harmless."

"And I was going to go to that vampire bar on Friday to get a feel for fangbanger culture." It was common, even expected, for prosecutors to personally visit crime scenes, gang hangouts if applicable, and other sorts of related scenes relevant to investigate their cases.

I didn't like the look on Ethan's face. He actually looked a little unnerved. For me? For him?

"Don't go alone." Then he turned and left with that vampire speed.

I had actually planned on asking him to go with me as my investigating officer, but decided against it. What was it about this bar that scared this tough undead cop?

#

It wasn't often that Eric Northman got yelled at. It was even less often he got called a whiny little bitch. When both of these things happened at once, with Sookie Stackhouse sitting right there, that just made everything so much more amusing. Pam had a strange sense of humor. Normally, needling her maker was a privilege reserved for herself. But this was just too funny. When Eric caught her eye, she smirked.

"She can't be glamoured completely," he was telling the speakerphone. "I could make her do small things, but there was absolutely no way she was going to let Phystler go. If there's something she really cares about, she fights the glamour."

"When that case goes to trial, it's going to be bigger than Casey Anthony and OJ Simpson combined. The vampire rights movement will be set back by 2 centuries-." Nan kept raving on the other end of the phone.

"Then why can't we just stake Phystler," Eric suggested. "No defendant, no trial." It had been Pam's idea. Sort of. Her idea had been to just kill everyone off.

"His maker is 2000 years old and the king of Virginia." Not a good vampire to piss off. Although Pam could kick his ass if she wanted to.

"Kill off Marsh then?"

"Her office would just assign someone else to the case. Plus her death would get blamed on us, even if we didn't do it."

"Is there a reason you called me, other than to yell at me and call me an incompetent moron?"

"Marsh is going to be handling most of the vampire cases from now on. Keep her close, find a way to control her. Or I'll have your fangs."

With that, Nan Bitchagan hung up.

Eric sighed and stared at Sookie with grim determination. Pam knew that look well, he would practice it in the mirror in case he needed to throw a pity party with people who couldn't be glamoured or ordered into compliance. He almost pulled it off. Almost.

"You see, Sookie?" he said softly. "I hate to beg, but I need your help. My life, and probably Pam's, depends on my being able to get Nan off my back." Knowing a cue when she heard one, Pam lowered her eyes and gripped Eric's shoulder.

Sookie crossed her arms, inadvertently pushing her twins together under her scoop neck shirt. Lavender was quite fetching on her, Pam thought. Eric liked her in red, however.

"This is crossing a line, Eric," Sookie huffed. "That Marsh woman has done nothing to you."

"I just want you to read her thoughts. See if you can gather anything of use to me." Eric was practically pleading now. He was good. Pam could have done better though. He should have just let her do it.

Chow appeared at the door of Eric's office. "She's here," he announced.

Sookie paled under her lovely tan. "Not in your basement?" she squeaked. "You're not going to torture her into submission?"

Eric's expression was deadpan. No pun intended. "I could torture her till she breaks. She wouldn't be able to resist my glamour anymore. I could do that within an hour. No one would know she was ever missing." He turned on the soulful pity party again. "I know you don't owe me anything, but I'd pay you well. A hundred an hour."

Everyone in the room knew that Sookie needed the money. Everyone in the room also knew that she didn't want to be indirectly responsible for Dana Marsh ending up chained in Eric's basement, or for the true deaths of her two favorite vampires. That didn't mean she was happy about it.

Pam smiled. Sookie was so cute when she was all riled up and mad. Pam hoped Eric would keep pissing Sookie off.

#

Eric and Sookie occupied one of the booths near the entrance. Pam stood by her station at the door, where she could see and hear everything. Dana Marsh had shown up with a gaggle of three girlfriends and they were all huddled in a corner, clutching drinks and gawking like tourists.

Pam couldn't tell human ages anymore, but she could tell that Dana and her escorts were maybe a few years older than Sookie. They were all in black, trying but failing miserably to blend in. For starters, they were showing too little skin.

For example, Dana was in a tight tank top with a lace trim, and a skirt that had been discreetly folded at the waist a couple of times to make the skirt shorter. She wore a narrow silk scarf around her neck that draped down her front and unfortunately obscured her cleavage.

Pam smiled and her fangs ran out a little. She adored cute, petite little things such as dolls, Chihuahuas, and Dana Marsh. Especially the curvy ones with firm abs. She also loved that shy face, the girlish bangs, and the doe like brown eyes.

"Yum," Pam whispered. The only thing missing from her sexually repressed bookworm fantasy was a pair of glasses. The sweet, demure looking ones were always the feistiest. Just like Sookie.

Eric had been eyeing one of the bolder women in Dana's group. With a slight tilt of his head and a boost of glamour, he got her to drag Dana to Eric's booth. Dana looked horrified and Sookie grinned to hide her annoyance. Pam covered her own mouth to hide her amusement.

"What are you doing?" Dana hissed at her companion. "You're supposed to keep me safe from the vampires."

Pam snickered. Clearly Dana had no idea how good vampire hearing was.

"Thank you," Eric told Dana's bodyguard once they reached his table. It was clearly a dismissal. Dana sat uneasily across from Sookie and Eric while the friend (sadly) rejoined the group.

"I'm Eric," he said. "This is Sookie. And you're Dana Marsh."

"I thought you looked familiar. I saw you on TV," Sookie piped up.

"As did I," Eric added. Every vampire had. Dana Marsh had been the first prosecutor in the nation to charge, and convict a vampire drainer for second degree murder.

Eric feigned a faraway look in his eyes as he recited, "'The defendants want you to believe that the victim did not feel, he was not human, not even alive. But wherever you draw the line between human and inhuman, living and dead, the law says that a vampire's blood is not anyone's for the taking. This vampire, his name was Eddie Founei. He suffered, and he died, all for the sake of a few minutes of someone else's euphoria.'"

"That was from my closing argument." Dana blushed. Pam wanted to run over and relieve the human of some of that blood that was coloring her face. The modest girls were the most fun.

Dana just smiled and shrugged, looking embarrassed.

"For someone who earned the nickname of Counsel Cool as a Cucumber, you sure get flustered a lot."

Pam immediately got a mental image of Dana and cucumbers. When a bikini clad Sookie joined the picture, Pam didn't hear much else after that.

#

Hours later, Pam locked up Fangtasia for the night while Eric grilled Sookie for possible blackmail material on Dana.

"She thought you were a sex god, wondered if we were serious, and thought it was typical of men to prefer blond bimbos with boobs," Sookie reported sourly. "That and a bunch of dirty thoughts about your chest, your crotch, and your forearms. Can I leave now? And you owe me $500."

"Did you detect anything supernatural about her? She's not a telepath? Psychic? Witch?"

"No why?"

"That means she can fight glamour out of sheer willpower." _As opposed to the coincidence of being born with telepathy or fairy blood._

Sookie didn't miss the unspoken jibe. "If you don't need me anymore, I'm going home," she said flatly. The ancient vampire kept his eyes on her until she stormed out the door.

"Did _you_ detect anything supernatural about Dana?" Pam asked hopefully.

"Her blood was completely ordinary. Minus a slight Vitamin D deficiency and overdose of sodium."

"But the woman herself…" Pam sighed dreamily.

"I thought she'd be your type."

"You're using Dana to make Sookie jealous." The younger vampire smiled.

"Think it will work?"

"I should just turn Sookie and put you out of your misery." Pam didn't mean into a vampire.

"She's mine."

"You never share your toys," Pam pouted because she knew it annoyed him when she did that.

"I don't care if you play with my toys. I just don't want you there when I'm playing with them."

"Scared they'll like me better?"

"You kill my boners."

Fair enough.

"And Pam."

Pam looked at her maker quizzically.

"Sookie is not one of my toys."

No. She was a distraction that Eric couldn't afford.


	2. Chapter 2

I answered the phone on the second ring. "Dana. DA Office." I used to answer my office line with a, "Hello?" until I realized I was the only person in the entire courthouse who did that.

"It's Lisa. I know the readiness conference for Doe isn't for another week, but can we talk about it now?"

"Doe? Which case is that?" I started rummaging through a towering pile of manila files that threatened to topple over.

"It's the 62." Penal Code 62. Burglary.

"The one where the defendant stole True Bloods from a million different stores?" I remembered that case because it had taken me an hour to organize that file before I gave up and handed off the task to an intern. I love interns. Free labor.

"The underage client. Sixteen different stores, all of them giant chains."

Leave it to a defense attorney to mitigate a crime. "What about it?"

"My investigator finally figured out who she is. Went missing last year, when she was 15 years old. Her name is Fay Harrison. That means she couldn't have been a vampire for more than a year."

Found it. I tugged the Doe/Harrison file out and flipped through the police reports. There were probably more than 25 of them, but they all told the same story. Female, vampire suspect shoplifts a case of True Blood from Dixe-Mart/Walmart/Ralphs in various different locations over 16 different times, over a course of 5 months. Caught on surveillance camera each time, but never caught in the act. Except once, but the security guard was too scared to stop her. According to her Mirandized confession where a social worker was present, she had stolen all the True Bloods because she was homeless and hungry and had no money to pay for it.

I looked at the booking photo. I hate to use the term "trailer park trash" but Fay Harrison Formally Known as Jane Doe looked exactly like that. A scared, 15 year old version. Even for a vampire she was pale. If Pinocchio told me that Fay was a child molest victim, and his nose started growing, I would have believed him anyway.

"Send over all the paperwork confirming her age, and I'll have her charged as a juvie." I said. I wasn't doing this as a favor, there were strict rules that forbade prosecutors from overcharging crimes.

"Vampires can't be charged as juveniles." Lisa sounded tired.

Oops. I should have known that. In fairness, I had never dealt with this issue. That hardly seemed fair, but I was also bound to follow the law. I flipped through the rest of the file. Fay had no known criminal record. No maker known, as she wasn't in the vampire registry. No home address. No phone number. When she was arrested, she was found in bare feet and with a Princess Jasmine backpack that had a naked Barbie doll with one of the legs missing, a grimy baseball cap, a dead rat, and a bunch of grass.

"If she pleads before the preliminary hearing I'll reduce the burg's to petty thefts and drop the Failure to Register. I'll stip to summary probation but she has to be released to the custody of social services." And once I found out who Fay's maker was, I'd have him charged with Turning a Minor, Turning Without Consent, Neglecting an Unreleased Progeny, and anything else that would stick.

"She's not interested in a plea bargain or a stipulated sentence."

"Shouldn't you ask her first?"

"She's completely shut me out."

Not to be callous, but there was nothing I could do about it. Prosecutors aren't even allowed to talk to defendants without the defense attorney present.

"Try bribing her with candy." I couldn't help but sound a little constipated. I breathed a heavy sigh while covering the mouthpiece of the phone.

I had 3 trials to prepare, not including a high profile murder, and 4 hearings scheduled in the next 5 days alone. Also, I had to meet the vampire king, fly to DC to testify in front of Congress about pending supernatural persons legislation, and find a new brand of wet food that my cat would not throw up all over my bed, my sofa, and my kitchen. I was running on 3 hours of sleep, and my third can of Monster was wearing off already. And to top it all off, I was missing a special one day sale at Lohmann's, for which I also had a coupon and reward points that could be used towards any purchase. Combined discounts don't grow on trees.

"She can't eat candy. She's a vampire." Lisa informed me.

I glanced at all the candy and chocolate wrappers in my trash can. "Remind me to never become a vampire."

"Dana."

"Lisa." Was this conversation never going to end?

"I tried to see if Social Services or someone could take her, but they don't take vampire orphans." She hesitated. "Do you think your office could try to set her up with something? Like don't you have victims services of something like that?"

We had "victim advocates" for (human) sexual assault survivors that had to testify in court, but I didn't bother to tell her that. Either way, my office had more resources than the public defender's did.

"I'll see what I can do." I sighed.

"You're my favorite DA. And I loved that little tie you wore for your statement to the press last week. Didn't even make you look lesbian."

Whew. The number of men in my life was a negative 5. I didn't want to make that score worse by advertising that I wasn't interested.

I looked at the clock. Five pm. Most of my colleagues would be going home to their families by now, and their dogs and iguanas and whatever they had. Not me. I had to wait around till dark to arraign a vampire. I hoped my cat wouldn't be too mad at me for missing dinner again. I poured myself another cup of coffee.

#

Eric gave a start when he heard pounding on his front door. His fangs came out and he shot from his living room to the kitchen. Where had he put that fire extinguisher?

"Let me in!" someone shouted from the other side of the door.

The sheriff froze with his foot in the air. "Pam?" Through their maker-progeny bond, he could feel her increasing urgency. Sure enough, when he opened the door, a blur of baby blue zoomed into the living room and changed the channel on the TV.

"I thought you were a horde of humans carrying torches," the Viking said lamely. He returned to the sofa and stared at Pam's ensemble. She was in a snug, curvy blazer, a knee length pencil skirt that had pleats in the center, a suit vest with lapels of its own, and a narrow tie. And for the first time in his life, Eric saw how Pam looked as a brunette with bangs. Oh no. If she couldn't have Dana Marsh, she was intent to become her. Pam was staring at the TV as if she was trying to glamour it. It was turned to Nancy Grace or one of those programs that tracked high profile trials.

"I was watching the game," Eric informed her. "There were 30 seconds left and my team was winning."

"Go watch it with Clancy and Chow." She never took her eyes off the TV. "There's a big party at my nest."

That was a thought, but then everyone would know that the big bad sheriff of Area 5 had been kicked off of his own high def, 68" inch, plasma, flat screen TV by his pastel clad daughter. He could try to take the remote back, but the game was probably over by now. And it wouldn't be worth the swift karate chop to Tweedledee and Tweedledong, as Pam used to call them when she was an infant vampire. There was a reason they didn't live together. He should have never taught her that move. He shifted his attention to the TV to see what was so fascinating.

"In the next few minutes, Drake Janovich is going to be arraigned for first degree murder," said the announcer, looking positively excited. "This is the first time in history that a vampire will be facing criminal charges for the staking of another vampire."

The camera cut to a courtroom scene where the main event was a fuming vampire wrapped in padded silver chains. A harried looking human suit stood next to him, but not too closely.

"Clayton Wielding for Drake Janovich, who is present and in custody," started Suit. "Mr. Janovich has been advised of the charges against him and waives formal reading of the complaint. His true name date of birth and making appear on it. He has been advised of his constitutional rights and refuses to sign an acknowledgment. He pleads not guilty, denies any and all charges, and requests court appointed counsel."

"I want a real lawyer!" Janovich shouted. Suit looked unimpressed.

The judge looked at the vampire in a way that Eric thought was inappropriately benign and polite. Had Eric been wearing that black robe, the defendant would have never made such an outburst again. Humans. No wonder they had such a high crime rate.

"Mr. Wielding is a real lawyer," Judge Wimp explained calmly. "I'm going to give your case to the public defender for now, then later you can hire your own attorney if you want. But we can't go forward with your case until you acknowledge that you understand that you have a right to a speedy trial, a jury of 12 people, the right to exculpatory evidence, the right to cross examine…"

Eric and Pam looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Humans and their red tape.

Janovich growled and tried to lunge, but one of the bailiffs struck him with a silver tipped baton. Eric nodded with approval. Maybe he should offer that bailiff a job as a bouncer at Fangtasia. Vampire bouncers—especially present company, tended to overuse their strength.

Judge Wimp looked at Suit as if nothing had happened. "Bail is set at $1 million. Did your client wish to be heard on bail?"

"We ask that the court reduce bail or release Mr. Janovich under supervision," said Suit, over the gagged howls and clattering chains of his undead client. The lawyer didn't even bat an eye. "Mr. Janovich is a respected small business owner, has many investments in the area, and no criminal record. He's also awaiting a vampire mediation at which he will be required to pay a large fine to the maker of the alleged victim as recompense—assuming that he's found guilty according to this vampire procedure. He's no flight risk, Your Honor, everything he knows is here, and the other vampires in the community will make sure he sticks around to hold him accountable for this alleged offense. Also, there was an extreme provocation that allegedly drove my client to allegedly commit this offense."

"Allegedly." Eric and Pam muttered.

"People?" Judge Wimp looked to the other side of the room and the camera followed his gaze.

"Dana Marsh for the People." The human rose from her chair with a delicate grace.

Eric could just _feel _Pam memorizing the woman's fitted, pinstriped, black suit and dove gray blouse that had ruffles down the front.

"People ask for no bail." Dana gazed steadily at the judge, she stood tall-, well, as much as she could manage, and her chin was raised ever so slightly with the righteous virtue of a warrior saint who had an army of angels fluttering behind her. But her tone was calm, smooth, and deferential.

Eric tilted his head. Pam leaned forward. One of them had her fangs out.

"Your Honor, the defendant staked the victim for drinking one of his humans. This human is still alive and she had consented to the drinking. He'll have to pay a nominal fee to the victim's maker but until very recently, a vampire drinking from another vampire's human was punishable by death anyway. Therefore the People cannot agree with Counsel's reasoning that the other vampires of the community have any interest in whether the defendant stays in town to stand trial."

"Was this human female injured in any way?" the judge asked.

"No, Your Honor. But, when the defendant was apprehended, it took 5 vampire police officers and 10 human officers to apprehend him. All of the officers suffered severe injuries."

Dana walked over to the judge to hand him a photograph. Eric noticed that she sort of had a haughty little strut in those stilettos. Judging from Pam's big smile, he wasn't the only one who caught it.

"He's a danger to the community, and with the business revenue and many investments he presumably has the resources to flee the jurisdiction."

Judge Wimp denied bail, despite Janovich's glares and snarls. Maybe the former wasn't such a wimp after all.

The camera cut back to the anchor, who started interviewing two legal experts about what was expected of the case.

Pam looked like she could wet herself. "She's so sweet and innocent, When she talks like that, it's like, she has a- a hallow above her head."

"Halo. Wasn't English your first language?"

"Isn't she cute?" Apparently the Victorian vampire hadn't heard a word her maker had said. The TV was showing a screenshot of Dana walking down the courthouse steps as one of the anchors commentated on the case.

"She looks like a 12 year old. The kind that tattles on everyone." Eric studied the screen. "Now that you mention it, she does have sort of a sweet, innocent demeanor. Kind of reminds me of you."

Pam beamed.

"But you're actually a cold hearted bitch." He gave his child a fond look.

Pam smiled even broader.

As she engrossed herself in TV, hoping to glimpse more clips of her new obsession, Eric wondered why this Marsh woman was allowed to live. It was an abomination that Janovich be haled into a human court, his fate decided by humans. He had every right to kill a vampire that dared to feed on his human. That was a serious transgression. If anyone fed on Sookie, Eric would be tempted to do the same. But he would have hidden the evidence better. From the humans. He would have paid the recompense to the maker, of course. Eric was an honorable vampire and abided by the law. Vampire law. He just didn't think it was right for humans to meddle in things they did not understand. He didn't like being unable to control humans. With the exception of Sookie Stackhouse of course. That was part of her appeal. If only he could turn her, then he wouldn't have to always have her mortality nagging at the back of his mind. She'd be his, forever. _His_…

The news anchor showed another clip of Marsh as he started talking about the prosecution strategy.

"I could make her," Eric said suddenly. "She'd be a great vampire. And it would give me so much more power and prestige. I could have complete control over her." It was a flippant thought, the stakes included a stake in his heart, but he felt like musing aloud.

"Finally!" Pam tore herself away from the TV squeezed his hands. "I'm so happy for us," she whispered.

"I overestimated your attachment to her."

"Oh Eric. You know it's about you and not her."

"Maybe you should be the one to make her since you like her so much."

Pam stared at him for a full minute. "I was talking about Sookie," she said in a low voice.

"I was talking about Dana Marsh."

The younger vampire looked astonished. Then he sensed her crushing disappointment even though she quickly made her expression neutral. "It's almost dawn," she said in an even lower voice. Then she turned on her heel but Eric gripped her wrist.

It was nowhere near dawn, and they both knew it. He also knew exactly what was upsetting his progeny.

"Stay with me." It was a request, one that she was free to refuse. But she didn't.

They hadn't shared a bed, in any sense, for over a century. There had simply been no need and the desire had quickly extinguished after the usual maker-progeny bonding. Even that wasn't sex per se, as humans understood it, it was the equivalent of mammals breastfeeding. Plus they already saw too much of each other, and they got on each other's nerves. But tonight, Eric just wanted to be with his daughter. The only vampire he could ever trust. His second. His best friend. His business partner. The one spot in his unbeating heart that even Sookie Stackhouse could never fill.

He lied back next to her and thought about the argument they had had soon after he had nearly died while handcuffed to Russell, both burning in the sun.

"_You were going to die for her," Pam accused. She was practically in tears. This was the most emotion Eric had seen in his child since the day she was made. "You could have saved yourself."_

_ "The Authority gave me an ultimatum." Eric was on the verge of losing his own temper. "Kill Russell or be killed. There was nothing else I could have done." He shouted the last line. Shouting was something he usually never did. It was never necessary. He was used to being obeyed._

_"You're going to end up getting killed protecting her." Pam's voice broke. "She's not worth it. She treats you like shit, she's so fragile, always getting in trouble. She has no idea what you've sacrificed for her, how you feel about her, she doesn't care._

_ "I would gladly die for you," she continued. He already knew that. "If I were to lose you in battle, I'd mourn you but I wouldn't regret your loss. But if you were to die for a human, I couldn't bear it. Not when you could have made her immortal."_

_ Eric stopped his pacing and stared at her. _

_ Pam looked at him eagerly, encouraged by his reaction. "You could free her. Like you freed me. She has nothing going for her. She's waiting tables at some shifter's bar, getting her ass groped by drunk men all night. If you love her, you're going to give her the gift you gave me."_

_ The Viking grit his teeth. "She doesn't want that."_

_ "You didn't exactly ask my permission before you turned me." It wasn't an accusation. "I would have never said yes, even if you had explained. But it was the best thing that ever happened to me."_

_ "That was different."_

_ "You know it wasn't. I was just like Sookie before you turned me. I was trapped in a meaningless life, I could only look forward to being a wife and a mother, Sookie doesn't even have that. She's been through too much, she can't ever have a normal life. Unless you free her, she's going to end up old and lonely and eavesdropping on the minds of drunks and taking orders till the day she dies."_

_ Eric looked away. There were very few things that upset him as much as this. _

"_You have to do it before it's too late, before she finds someone else or gets maimed or killed. If you're going to turn her you need to do it while she's still in her prime. She'll get used to it. She'll thank you for it later. She'd be invincible, she'd never age, never die, you could be together forever…"_

"_Pam."_

_She actually looked hopeful._

"_Never speak of this again. And don't even think about turning her yourself."_

_Pam shivered as she felt the nausea. A maker's command. He hadn't used that power against her since he had released her over a hundred years ago. _

_ "Fine," she croaked. She closed her eyes and a bloody tear actually creeped down her cheek. His cold, heartless child who only cared for him. "As long as you live on in Sookie." She kissed him on the cheek. "In case I don't get a chance to say goodbye." She turned and left without another word._

When the sun finally did come up, they both pretended to fall asleep. But neither of them actually did.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you so much for meeting me at this hour, Ms. Marsh. It is an honor to meet the head of the Supernatural Crimes Unit."

"Dana. And it's my honor to meet the king of Louisiana." Never in my life had I imagined I would say "king" and "Louisiana" in the same sentence. I smiled back at the vampire before me. He was a looker, this one. Dark hair, pretty blue eyes, and a Southern charm that put me at ease. He didn't look a day over 30. He wore a black pinstriped suit (I _love_ pinstripes), a crisp white shirt, a dark red tie (I love ties and dark red), a matching handkerchief tucked in the chest pocket, and gold cuff links (I practically have a cuff link fetish). Mmmm. Was it a rule that all vampires were attractive? I suppose it made sense, since vampires had the option of selectively choosing their children. No spinning the genetic wheel with these folk. No "she said she was on the pill" incidents.

"Bill."

I stifled a giggle. Vampire Bill. If I were a vampire queen I would have started calling myself LaReina Draavia Anneii, or something fancy like that. I also would have traded in my dark suits for a diamond studded robe and a gold headdress. And I'd have a pet eagle that pecked out the eyes of those who dared to cast their eyes upon me.

"I've seen much of your work on TV," he said, lifting a plate of cookies off of the coffee table and offering them to me. "You're incredible in the courtroom."

Wow. Southern hospitality. And I was worried that I'd be the main course.

"You're too nice," I laughed, taking a cookie. I love sweets. "Some people say I'm just full of razzle dazzle."

"_Chicago_ is one of my favorite musicals," he grinned. Wow. Vampire Bill was up to date on his Broadway.

"Mine too." Shit. Was I flirting? It really was though. I had seen the movie 12 times.

"See? Vampires and humans have a lot of things in common." Nice save.

I gave him a serious nod. "I know there is a lot of concern that vampires will be held to a double standard. I assure you I will do everything in my power to prevent that."

"That's not my concern." he gave me another one of those genial smiles. I melted like an ice cube in hell. "There is a lot about vampire— tradition that I hope you'll take into account when you decide which cases to charge."

I nodded again, like an idiot. "I only know what I've seen on those AVA interviews." And what Ethan had told me. "I hope you will keep me enlightened on anything I need to know of your traditions." Wow. I could have been an ambassador. Or not.

"Well haaiiiii theeey-yerr," said a female voice. She made the phrase sound like 5 syllables. Bill and I turned to look at the newcomer. What was this, a librarian at this hour? Was she a vampire or something? Well duh. More likely she was Bill's wife, although I wasn't sure why she'd be carrying a pink purse Prada in her own house. She sure looked like a first lady in that cashmere twinset, tweed sheath, and rope of pearls. She leaned against the doorframe and thrust her hip out to one side.

"Like my new hair?" She literally batted her eyelashes at me. _Was she talking to me?_

"Yes," I managed. _Who the hell are you?_

"Pam," Bill nodded. Thank you Bill, for enlightening me. I was awful at remembering faces.

Pam returned the nod and kept her eyes on me.

"I guess you've met?" the king said.

"Sure," I lied. "Good to see you again, Pam."

She kept staring at me as if I were a giant chocolate cake or something. Oh _shit_. I was on my period. Could the vampires tell? According to _Twilight_, it was "dead" blood and it didn't affect vampires, even though they could smell it. Not that I read any of that junk. Maybe only the females could detect it.

Bill was the first to break the slightly awkward silence.

"I thought Eric was coming?"

Irritation crossed Pam's face for the briefest of seconds. "He's on a detour," she drawled. She slipped into the room and took a seat on the single seater next to Bill's sofa.

"I thought you should meet the local sheriff," the king told me. "He's based in Shreveport, and he can act as a liaison should the need arise."

"Perfect." This was just too weird. "And if you need to reach me, I have a temporary paralegal who's a vampire so she'll be up at night. My regular paralegal is on maternity leave." I felt the need to explain why a vampire would only be hired on a temporary basis, so they wouldn't think the DA's office was discriminating against the undead. "She's coming back after she has her baby."

"Maternity leave," Pam repeated slowly. "I read about those on Dear Abby."

I hadn't pegged her as the type to read that junk.

"That means there will be a baby shower. With gifts that are pink or blue." She said this with the air of a foreign exchange student who is proudly demonstrating her knowledge of the local culture. "I like pastels." Bill and I made sideways glances at her Easter egg colored clothes. The soft peach clad vampire looked at me brightly. "You should have a baby so you can have a baby shower!"

"I have to find a man first," I chuckled. Bill looked mortified.

Pam seemed astonished. "I thought modern women rejected the notion that they need men for anything." More advice from Dear Abby, no doubt. "You could go to the ATM, or use one of those storks."

What, was she from the Victorian era or something? Bill pressed his lips together and coughed. I covered my mouth. Fortunately, we were interrupted right then.

"I am here." A tall, blond man strode in. To my surprise, he was that vampire I talked to at that bar. Fangtastic, or whatever it was called.

Rather than sit next to Bill on the love seat, he perched on the armrest of Pam's chair. Ohhhh. Pam was with Eric then. They didn't touch, or give each other a peck and a "Hi, Honey," but it was clear that they didn't need to. They made an odd couple. Black leather and pastel tweeds. And I was sure Eric would know how babies were made. He had probably made over a hundred.

"Dana," he said slowly. "I saw you on TV again last night."

The corners of my mouth turned up and I hoped I wasn't simpering. He looked even better than the last time I saw him. Sexy. Powerful. Intimidating. I could have sworn there was a slight red mark on his cheek, the size of a hand, as if someone had slapped him. I blinked, and his face was as smooth and white as ever. Must have been my imagination.

"I think I saw you on TV too!" I chirped. "Who would I rather trust? Vampires or politicians?" I laughed. Then I glanced at Bill, realizing he was both. Eric lips curved ever so slightly.

"I didn't know you were the local sheriff," I babbled. "All the sheriffs I know wear tan uniforms." He was making me really nervous. Now that I could see him in proper lighting and wasn't tipsy on a pina colada, I felt the full brunt of his cold, hard stare. Like that of a cheetah ready to strike. Unlike Bill, who was all warm smiles.

"If there is ever anything you need, you just need to ask me," said the warmly smiling vampire, with the air of a host telling me to help myself to the refrigerator. "The same goes for any of my subjects."

Eric's calm, expressionless face remained like stone. But the glower he gave Bill made me shiver. Pam looked like she could laugh. She seemed easily amused.

I was intrigued by the muted tension between Bill and Eric. The night could only get better if they broke out into a shirtless brawl. I mentally slapped myself. Look but don't touch. Or I'd probably never look or touch anything again.

"I actually meant to ask something." I started digging in my purse and pulled out a photo of Fay Harrison. "She's one of my defendants." I passed the photo to Bill first, since he was king. "I think she might be an orphan, but she's underage and social services won't take her because she's a vampire. I'd like to find out who her maker is, and hopefully track down any human family she has left." Bill studied the picture. "She can't be more than a few months old." He passed the photo to his sheriff. "A defendant? She didn't…" His voice trailed off and he looked very worried. Not more bad press.

"Oh no," I said hastily. "She just stole some True Bloods." That was an understatement. "I think she was hungry and had no money."

"Neglecting an infant progeny is an unforgivable atrocity." I hadn't thought Eric's tone could get any slower or chillier. Only the set of his mouth revealed his rage. "A new vampire is vulnerable, has many needs." He finally raised his head from the photo to look at me. I gulped. "This sort of abandonment cannot be tolerated." Woe to the deadbeat maker who crossed the tracks of Eric Northman.

"Maybe she just got separated from her maker." Unlikely, if the maker had not registered her as his own. Or maybe he already had other children and didn't want to pay the plus 2 progeny fine.

"No. He would have called her."

I was going to say she didn't have a cell phone, but refrained.

"There is a possibility that the maker has met the true death. But if he is found, he will be turned over to the authorities so that he may be dealt with in a lawful manner," Bill said firmly, more for Eric's benefit than mine. Somehow I didn't think this was ever going to happen.

"Do you have—ah, ways to find out who her maker is?" I asked. Maybe a vampire paternity test.

"Yes. Where is she now?" Eric returned the picture to me.

"I think they're keeping her at the Shreveport jail." It had a few vampire proof cells. "If she takes a plea bargain then I don't think she'll do much more time, if any at all." She'd get credit for time served, some probation.

"As the orphan has been found in my area, as sheriff she is my responsibility. I will collect her tonight. You can entrust her in my care." The blond vampire stood, and Pam along with him.

I was surprised. And I felt more respect for him. The big bad vampire sheriff had a soft spot for abandoned undead babies. He sure didn't look like it. I wouldn't be surprised if he drank infants for breakfast. Or dinner, more accurately.

"They won't let you just take her," I explained. "She needs to be bailed out or she has to wait for her next court date in custody."

"Then I will make the necessary arrangements. I will contact you if there is any trouble that cannot be overcome."

With that, he left with a swoosh and a blur. I had been dismissed. I was a little taken aback. I wasn't used to being dismissed by anyone not wearing a black robe.

Pam looked me up and down and gave me a huge smile. "I like your pumps." Then she was gone as well.

Almost instinctively, Bill and I scrutinized my Pam approved pumps. They were faux black satin, peep toe, and had delicate ruffles across the top. I never wore them outdoors. A steal for $23.99 at Charlotte Russe. Full price.

I started to scope out my competition— Bill had super shiny dress shoes— when he asked if I was going to handle all of the vampire cases.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the time being." He didn't look too unhappy. "I have 4 other DA's on my team, but it's hard to find someone who's willing to work at night on a regular basis. They do most of the shifter cases, and I handle anything that has to be done after 5 pm. And I'm fortunate to have a full time vampire investigator assigned to us."

"Who is it?"

"Ethan Waynridge. You know of him?"

Bill gave a semi shrug. "I've heard of him."

"Don't like cops?" I gave him a knowing smile.

"Traditionally, my kind has not had positive relations with law enforcement."

Along with most other minority groups in this country. Maybe the vampires could ally with the Black Panthers. They could start calling themselves the Black Capes and yell "Fuck da PO-LEECE!" together.

"I hope that will change," I said sincerely. "We could always use more vampires in law enforcement. More diversity, less racial tension." I hoped "race" was the right word.

We chatted for the next hour, he seemed particularly interested in the Phystler case, then he walked me to my car.

"Maybe I can take you to watch _Chicago_ sometime," he said casually.

"Maybe." I smiled faintly. Probably not. Business got in the way. As usual.

I buckled in, he shut the door, and I drove home to my cat.

#

Bill settled into his desk and stared at the phone. He didn't want to do it, but they'd find out anyway. They always did. They were everywhere. He sighed and made the call.

"We may have found another one," he said cautiously. "But Sheriff Northman got to her first."

"No matter," replied Nan Flanagan. "We'll put her down at the first opportunity."

_Click._

#

The staff of Fangtasia closed and locked up at 3pm. Eric got into his Corvette and started driving home but noticed a lavender Nissan Murano on his tail. He sighed and swore in his native tongue. Pam wordlessly followed him into his condo when they arrived.

"Watch your own TV," he told her.

"Yours is bigger."

"Get a bigger one."

"It will disturb the feng shui."

"You don't even know what that is."

"It's when you want to watch the Phystler trial on TV without your nestmates slurping blood or fighting over the last bottle of AB neg."

"Move out and get your own place."

"I hate living alone."

"Get new nestmates."

"The people on Craig's List are really flaky."

"The trial's not even going on right now."

"I saved it on TIVO."

"Did you hack into my TIVO?"

"You were asking for it when you made your password 'sookiestackhouse.'"

Pam made herself comfortable on the sofa and turned on the TV. Her fangs already ran out in anticipation. Seeing this, Eric got a big towel and made her sit on it.

"You almost wet my sofa last time," he complained.

"I didn't say anything when you used my favorite blouse as a rag."

Eric furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? I never do my own cleaning."

"I meant that time when you were polishing your knob in your office."

Oh right.

He opened his laptop, went online, and started shopping for a TV. One for Pam's bedroom. And he logged into his TIVO account and changed his password to "sookieyouaremine." Then he shifted his attention back to the TV.

"…Apparently the defense is going to use a 'cultural defense,'" said the TV anchor. "We have here with us Todd Garcia, a defense attorney who has used the cultural defense in one of his own cases. Todd, would you explain to us what exactly that is?"

The camera turned to Todd, who looked excited about the publicity. "The 'cultural defense' has usually been used by defendants who are new to this country, to defend crimes such as rapes or honor killings," he explained. "For example, in some Islamic cultures, men are expected to commit 'honor killings' of female family members that are suspected of being promiscuous or otherwise tainting the family honor. Or in the case that I defended, my client was from an aboriginal culture where women are expected to say no to sexual advances, no matter what, even if they're actually consenting. What happened in my case was, my client tried to have sex with the alleged victim, she refused, and my client reasonably assumed that she was just being coy." The human puffed up just a little. "I was able to successfully assert the cultural defense on behalf of my client by arguing that 'hey, in his culture, this is what's normal. This is what anyone else from his culture would have done, there's no criminality here.' In that particular culture, no actually meant yes."

"And how do you anticipate that the cultural defense will be used by Phystler?" asked the anchor.

"It's my understanding that in vampire culture, it is, or was, common practice for vampires to keep human pets for sex and food, then to drain the humans once they were no longer desirable. I'm guessing Mr. Phystler's defense will be something along the lines of 'Hey, everyone is doing it, according to my culture, what I did was not wrong."

"Will Mr. Phystler be able to assert this defense even while claiming that the draining was accidental?"

"You know, technically he is allowed to present alternate theories. It's within his right to say, I accidentally drained her completely, I got carried away, but at the same time, assuming I drained her on purpose, it's just part of my culture. However I'm not sure if that would be very wise. When you have conflicting theories like that, it's a better strategy to pick one or the other."

"Thank you, Todd," said the anchor. "And joining us via satellite is Nan Flanagan of the American Vampire League. Nan, what is the American Vampire League's position on this?"

"The fact that Phystler is even allowed to assert this 'cultural defense' is absurd," Nan said emphatically. She was pristinely dressed in a white, jewel toned suit with broad lapels. "Donovan Phystler does _not_ come from a culture where it is normal to drain a human to death. He is the rare _exception_ to the rule. His use of this defense is the equivalent of a human from the South saying, 'I beat my girlfriend to death because that is what all Southern men do and it's an intrinsic part of my culture.' Quite frankly, it's insulting.

Nan uncrossed her legs and sat a little straighter. "Vampires have been a closeted part of human society for centuries. We accepted human norms a long time ago. That is why we chose to reveal ourselves. Donovan Phystler is a backwards thinker. This "culture" he is referring was extinguished back in the Enlightenment age. Vampire culture has evolved, as human culture has. Humans once thought it was impossible for a man to rape his own wife, or it was perfectly acceptable to own people as slaves. Similarly, vampires once thought, a much longer time ago, that draining a human to death was no different from killing a cow for hamburger meat. That is no longer the case."

"But Nan, isn't it true that a lot of vampires today maintain human 'pets' to be used for sex and food?" the anchor pressed.

"That is a myth perpetuated by vampophobes. Besides, I believe the modern term is 'sugar baby,'" Nan said with a wry smile. This earned her a chuckle. "I think this myth arose because some people just find it hard to believe that a human and a vampire can be in a consensual, healthy relationship that may or may not include consensual blood giving. Even assuming that there are indeed vampires who 'maintain' willing humans in a relationship that the parties deem to be mutually beneficial, this is no different from an older, rich human man dating a younger human female for sex or companionship on the understanding that he will provide for her.

"Kind of like Hugh Heffner," quipped the anchor.

"Exactly," Nan laughed amiably. "You don't see anyone getting on his case. He's practically a hero! But the bottom line is, vampires have synthetic blood. It's a lot easier and cheaper to buy a bottle from the store than 'maintaining' a human just for a few sips of blood. It's not a worthwhile investment."

Eric had to agree with Nan, for once. It was so much easier to chomp and go rather than using someone over and over again.

"Hypocrite," Pam muttered. "That bitch has more pets than I do."

"She's a great liar though."

But not nearly as good as Eric.

Pam looked around as if looking for something. "Where's that Fay girl? I was so sure you'd dump her on me."

"I know how much you hate children."

"There's something off about her. Like something went wrong when she was turned."

"That's why I entrusted her in the care of someone dispensable."

A/N

To all of my readers, reviewers, favoriters, alerters,

Thank you so much for your time and interest. Every time I get a notification from , it really makes my day. It instantly makes me drop what I'm doing and go back to my stories to write more, tweak it, see what works. More than once, I've written an entire new chapter because of someone's encouragement. I love hearing all of your thoughts, no matter what they may be. I love how this community is so supportive of each other, we're all going through the same struggles, hopes, and sense of achievement.

A/N 2

Is Pam too OOC in this chapter? I tried to balance bored, snarky, TV Pam and pragmatic, Dear Abby reading, wanting to go to a baby shower book Pam.


	4. Chapter 4

"I thank you for dropping the charges against Fay," Eric Northman said in that cold, even tone of his. He spoke slowly, as if he had all the time in the world and my time was of no consequence to him. His expression was unreadable, as always. "I am glad that she will be given a fresh start."

"Nothing to thank me for. There's no point in prosecuting a homeless, 15 year old child who stole synthetic blood because she was starving." She could have stolen real blood instead, I didn't add.

"It would have been an easy conviction for you. Conviction rates are important to prosecutors." Now he was starting to sound like the typical defense attorney. I half expected him to start gloating about how his client walked on a technicality, or complaining that all cops are liars.

"I don't issue cases based on how easy they are. That's not our role." Besides, my conviction rate was one of the things that had landed me this job. I wasn't too worried about it.

"And the Phystler case? How well is that going?"

What was with the vampire leadership and Phystler? They just wouldn't let it go. "I have all the evidence I need. It's up to the jury now."

"Is there any way you would drop the case?" His voice became sultry. The room felt a little warmer.

"No." It came out squeaky. What was wrong with me? I couldn't even handle a little flirting.

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?" He stared at me harder.

I felt almost floaty. It was hard to explain. "No," I said with as much conviction I could muster. I _wanted_ to say yes, to make him happy. Was it him? Was he doing that somehow? There was an invisible weight pressing on my throat.

"How about intercourse?" he asked suddenly.

Ohhh. I turned bright crimson. I knew that some older vampires weren't entirely 100% on their modern English, even if they spoke with no accent. "I think you mean _discourse_. You want to convince me with _discourse. _Intercourse means to- well, it's something entirely different."

Maybe he was just being an ass. Making fun of me like that. I tore my gaze away and tried to keep my thoughts away from Eric Northman and intercourse.

To my disappointment, Eric dropped his seductive tone immediately. "The stores that were robbed by Fay are very angry about your decision."

I didn't bother to tell him that Fay had committed burglary, not robbery. Robbery requires the use of force or fear. Burglary only requires that you enter a building with the intent to steal something.

"It's not because she's a vampire," I said hastily. I didn't want him to think all humans were backwards hillbillies out to extinguish his people. He'd probably strike first. "Some of the stores suffered a significant loss, and it's a lot harder for them to recover any of that money if she isn't actually convicted."

"Understandable. I will compensate them fully."

This vampire just kept pulling surprises out of his leather sleeve. "Is that one of your duties as sheriff?" It came out a little more flippant than I had intended.

He gave me a look that was almost reproaching. This guy was really hard to read. "When you have children of your own, you'll understand."

Too bad I couldn't find a man who wanted to have any with me. I didn't even know if I wanted kids. Accomplishing everything I had, it came at a price. I looked at the picture of my cat on my desk.

Eric followed my gaze. "You know you're overworked when your dog is eating better than you," he said solemnly.

"That's a cat."

He shook his beautiful golden head. "You need a man in your life."

I gave a start. Was he offering? Was that why he had come to my office just to thank me in person? Surely he considered himself out of my league.

Then he was gone as quickly as he had come. How come vampires always managed to get the last word? Maybe it was one of their special powers.

While my mind was on vampires, I opened my top drawer and pulled out a business card. "Bill Compton," it read. "King of Louisiana." I laughed. If I were queen of the undead, I would never hand out business cards. I would summon people via trumpeting messengers dressed in pantaloons. The front was embossed with his office line. On the back he had scribbled his cell number. I hesitated, then picked up the phone. Then I put it back in its cradle.

#

Eric was already tuned in to a news channel covering the Phystler case when Pam walked in through his open door.

"Is everything ok?" she asked. "Why did you leave the door open?"

"I was expecting you."

"Gave up already?"

"Mmmph."

Pam dutifully sat on the towel that was spread on the seat next to Eric.

"We should have a suit themed night at Fangtasia," he said. "Kind of like what Dana wears, but skimpier."

On TV, Pam's favorite lawyer was questioning a vampire on the witness stand. They were having a painfully tedious back and forth about how it was impossible for Phystler's draining of his ex squeeze to have been accidental.

"How much blood can an adult female human lose before she dies of blood loss?" asked Dana.

"About 40% is usually the limit," said the witness. "The average adult has about 5 quarts of blood, so I'd say a little under 2.5 quarts."

"How much blood was found in the victim's corpse?"

"Half a cup at the most."

"How much blood does the average 600 year old vampire require to feed?"

"Once you're over 50 years old, your need to feed decreases dramatically. The older you are, the less you need. I'd say that for a 600 year old, you'd only need a cup or two per night to be completely satisfied. A few sips could keep you going, but you'd still be hungry."

"Although the average vampire of that age would only need one or two cups of blood, could they drink more even if they were already full?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"How much blood can a vampire of that age physically drink in one sitting?"

"Vampire stomachs can hold up to 6 quarts, but as the vampire grows older, the stomach loses its flexibility. No matter the age of the vampire, the stomach is really ideal for holding no more than 3 quarts at the most."

Eric already knew, from personal experience, that draining an entire adult human in one night was enough to cause an acute case of food coma and bloating. A vampire of Phystler's age—600 years, would not have the insatiable appetite of a brand new vampire. However, draining was a convenient way of disposing of humans that were no longer wanted. Before the days of synthetic blood, and after humans started making a big fuss when one of their own went missing, vampires could not afford to let fresh blood go to waste, especially when it was impossible to tell where the next meal would come from. Old habits die hard.

The witness on TV explained how a vampire drinking an entire human in one sitting is the equivalent of a human trying to drink 3 gallons of cream in one sitting, with no breaks.

Eric could have told the jury all of that in 5 minutes. Judging by Pam's fascination with the trial, one would have thought this was all new to her.

"Eric," she said.

"What."

"Bring me a bottle of A." Marsh's blood type.

"Get it yourself."

"I'm watching TV."

"Pause it."

"I'll tell you how to get in Sookie's bed and Dana under your thumb."

The Viking was interested in much more than Sookie's bed. He wanted her everything. But it would be a start. Pam occasionally had half decent ideas. They usually involved torture and maiming, but sometimes she'd come up with something that didn't have a high risk of death.

The 1000 year old vampire brought two bottles.

"Talk," he said.

"In a minute. I don't want to miss Dana's part."

"_Pratar_." Talk

"Seduce Dana. Take her around on dates where Sookie will see you two. Take Fay with you sometimes so you can show off your soft side. Dear Abby says women love that shit."

"That's what Bill Compton would do."

"No, Bill Compton would sit around moping and hating himself. Eric Northman would take action. Sookie will get jealous, then once Dana is deep in love with you, you run to Sookie, who will by then realize what she was missing. Then poor, heartbroken Dana gives up on men and runs to me. Then I'll be in a good position to pull her strings."

"Did you get that from Dear Abby?"

"No, Jerry Springer."

It was a decent idea, for Pam. But he sort of wanted Dana for himself. He wanted Sookie more, of course. Sookie was… special. She was his.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! If you like the story, don't forget to add it to "Story Alert" so it will email you whenever there is an update.


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't go to the judge with this." I tried to give the affidavits back but Ethan didn't budge.

"Not scared of him are you?"

A little irritated, I snatched up the affidavits again. "Multiple witnesses saw Subject taking multiple young, attractive females through Employee Only door of Premises," I read. I skipped a few lines. "Individuals suspected of human trafficking seen frequenting Premises." Second to last paragraph. "Blueprint for Premises reveals large basement area."

I was incredulous. I was crankier than normal because I had eaten nothing but either Lean Cuisine or instant oatmeal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. For the past 2 weeks. One of my colleagues had offered to let me stay at her place until I "got back on my feet". Apparently she thought I was sleeping at my office because I had lost my apartment to a fire or something. My cat didn't like his new diet food. He somehow mistook my pillow as his litter box. At least I had remembered to keep my shoes out of his reach.

"You want a search warrant. For a vampire bar. To look for evidence of human trafficking. Based on 'Subject' screwing pretty girls in the Employee Only area, shifty people frequenting the bar he owns, and the fact that his bar has a basement." That came out very bitchy. Good.

"Eric Northman is not above the law."

"Eric Northman is rich. He looks like the god of sex. He dresses like an s and m model. He can have anyone he wants. Vampires can drink a willing fangbanger for free or pay a willing blood donor. They got True Blood. What's the point in trafficking humans to be used as food? What is his motive in trafficking humans when the risk is so high? You're looking for crimes that don't exist. I don't know why you're so fixated with him."

"There are those who miss the adrenaline rush of hunting down unwilling prey. Trafficked blood slaves provide that opportunity. The ones from rural or less developed areas are apparently tastier because they're not as polluted."

I drew a breath. Ethan had a talent for spooking me unexpectedly with scary tidbits about vampires. "I think we both agree that he has skeletons in his closet, or in that basement at Fangtasia, but that's not enough to raid the place." Or start persecuting an entire group of people.

"What makes you think he has skeletons in his closet?" Ethan raised his eyebrows. "He made that bad of an impression on you?"

"Uhmmm." I had no answer. How embarrassing. I had just been called out for being a stereotyping bigot who judged people based on the way they looked and dressed. By someone who drank blood to survive and slept in a coffin.

"I can guarantee you that you won't find skeletons in his closet. He pulverizes them to powder and scatters them to the winds."

I think he was joking. His face was deadpan, but then, that was how he usually looked. I gave a weak laugh just in case. "Still need a warrant supported by probable cause to search that closet," I said lightly. "There's this thing called the Fourth Amendment remember?"

"You're right," Ethan said quietly. He took the affidavits from me and crumpled them up.

I was too surprised to say anything, although I desperately wanted to say something reassuring and funny.

"I'm not losing my touch," he insisted. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "It's just that my wife is dying. I'm in a funk. She's almost 90. We had 61 years together."

He had been made before vampires came out to the public, but he and his wife must have stayed together anyway. Even as he kept his 40 year old body and she turned old and gray. As he drank blood (before True Blood was available) and she'd have to wake up alone every morning. This was the first time he had mentioned anything about his human family.

"I'm so sorry." I blinked rapidly. Learning about familial loss made me very teary for some reason. A complete stranger could tell me that his second cousin died and I'd start misting up.

"Don't be," he said briskly. "She had a long happy life, and one day I'll join her in heaven. I'm glad we were able to have children before I was turned. And now I have grandchildren. And I'll live to see my great great grandchildren." He smiled fondly. "That's what keeps me going."

I was really touched that he was sharing this with me. "Go home," I told him. "Someone else can cover you."

"You too," he replied. Then he left.

#

I wasn't sure why I was sitting across Eric Northman and my ex defendant/his new ward, Fay, at some dive bar and grill in the middle of nowhere. There were plenty of eateries in Shreveport. If he wanted to discuss something, we could have talked at my office. Or we could have used the conference room. His own bar was about 10 minutes away from my office. But for some reason, we had made a 30 minute drive out to Bon Tempest, or whatever it was called. I couldn't see any other vampires in here. Some of the patrons were giving us very frightened looks. Eric was frightening. I couldn't blame them.

I knew _how_ I got here. I was at work, as usual. Eric showed up, suggested that we go to a place that sounded like a wine bar. I said no, it would be more appropriate and convenient to do business here in the office. He made eyes at me, and for some reason, my mouth said yes although my brain was saying _huh_?

I was curious why Eric Northman would ever present his black tank topped self in this place. It was quaint, but I had a feeling he didn't do quaint. We stuck out like sore middle fingers in this blue jeans clad, sunburnt, Bud Light chugging crowd. Me in my lawyer suit and computer monitor induced pallor, him in his bad ass mother fucker vamp uniform and his undead pallor. Fay was in a yellow sundress. I hoped nobody would think we had kidnapped her. She looked like she had gotten lost on her way home from a chastity club meeting.

"What can I get for y'all?" A busty, young blond beamed at us with a pad in her hand. Typical Southern belle/bimbo, the type that men seemed to like so much. As a Yankee and a woman who had lost many potential boyfriends to the likes of her, I classified her as a bimbo.

Eric ordered an O neg True Blood, and Fay asked the waitress what her blood type was. I kept my eyes glued on the menu during this extremely awkward exchange.

I desperately wanted a hamburger. And garlic fries. And chicken strips and mozzarella sticks. And a malt shake and a Sierra Nevada. I wanted the whole damn menu. I love the food in mom and pop restaurants. But I settled for an iced tea so I wouldn't look rude.

"Our cook makes a mean hamburger," Blondie chirped. Damn. She had read my mind.

"I'll just have some fries. Thank you." That big fake grin looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her. I would wear one of those strained smiles myself when I used to work random retail jobs in high school. _Hi, welcome to the Fashion Bug. That sweater looks soooo cute on you! The more I smile, the more you'll believe me!_

"She smells really good," said Fay, speaking for the first time tonight. She kept her eyes glued on Blondie, who was taking orders from another table.

"We don't talk about that in mixed company," Eric told her gently.

Fay nodded eagerly. The undead protégé.

"How are you doing?" I smiled at the perpetual 15 year old.

She gave me a toothy grin. "Eric is teaching me how to be a _real_ vampire."

I didn't want to know what that meant. I decided it was safest to change the subject.

"Did you have business you needed to discuss?" I asked Eric, annoyed that I had allowed myself to be dragged here when I could be sleeping in my bed by now.

"I hear you're looking for new lawyers to join your team," he replied conversationally.

"Do you know anyone?" I almost jumped up in excitement. "They need to be willing to work after dark." I was desperate to have a night life again. The social kind.

The vampire chuckled softly.

Blondie brought our drinks and to my surprise and embarrassment, my fries were heaping with garlic. Real, crushed garlic, rather than that green powdered stuff. She gave us a saccharine smile and skipped away before I could correct the order. I could have sworn there was a smirk on her face.

"Sorry," I half lied. "I can send it back."

My companions graciously declined the offer and bravely put up with the yummy stench. I chowed down. The faster I ate, the faster the garlic would go away, I figured.

"There are many vampires who are eager to work under you."

"Do they have law degrees and trial experience?" Preferably from this century.

Before answering, Eric turned his head to a commotion at the other end of a bar. Blondie was getting harassed by a redneck douchebag.

"Vamp whore!" he slurred.

With a speed that my eyes could only see as a blur, Eric was instantly holding the douche by the neck. Redneck's feet were dangling in the air. His face was turning blue. The vampire completely ignored the yells and protests for him to put down the human.

"Be nice to your waitress," Northman said calmly. Redneck responded by pulling out a knife. His wrist got twisted for his trouble. I thought the bone would snap. Blondie started screaming at her white knight (pun not intended). Redneck's buddy was approaching from behind with an extended baton. Definitely illegal to possess by civilians.

Oh no. A bar brawl. Back in law school, in my Criminal Law class, these things had always ended in Manslaughter, occasionally Murder 2. I'd be damned if I was going to sit by and let that happen.

Good thing I had changed into flip flops, I thought, as I raced over to the semi melee. Fay watched with no apparent concern. My coworkers call me Flip Flap because my shoes always make a smacking noise against my bare feet when I walk around the office. I hated covering my toes and only wore heels when I had to, which was a little more often than I liked.

"Put him down, and these people will leave." I called to Eric. "Think about Fay." He looked at me oddly, as if he were doing this specifically to set an example for his young charge. But he complied. Good mainstreaming vampire. Redneck clutched at his neck and swore, otherwise unharmed. The sheriff turned his attention to Blondie, who was very angry with him for some reason.

Right then, the baton connected with its target. It made a horrifying smack against Eric's spine. Then his skull made another crack when he fell to the ground. I screamed each time, as did others. I pulled out my phone but my hands were shaking so hard that I kept dialing 912 or 991. I would have preferred to throw a chakram and subdue everyone in a slick move, but I was a desk jockey, not Xena Warrior Princess. A man was waving around a baseball bat in the background, but he seemed to be trying to break everything up.

With a crazed look in his eyes, Redneck raised his knife and made as if to ram it in Eric's heart, but Blondie threw herself in the way. _What the_…? The blade slashed through the side of her neck, where it met the shoulder. With that, all hell broke loose (even more) as some of the patrons finally started to wrestle down the aggressors. I saw a couple of cell phones out.

Not knowing what else to do, I pulled Blondie onto her back and pressed my jacket against her wound. It was spurting blood. She looked over at Eric, so I did as well. There was a pool of blood under his head, his eyes were closed and he wasn't breathing. Fay had sped over and was stroking his hair. I turned away. The little girl had already lost so much.

"Possession of a concealed knife is a misdemeanor," I announced breathlessly. I couldn't help myself. "The only way to carry it legally is in a sheath, on your belt. And besides, calling someone a whore is a double standard." Ughhhh. Shut up Dana.

"Whore," Redneck spat again. Fortunately, he was pinned under a burly man. His knife was on the floor.

"I haven't had sex in years," I countered. Oh no. Had someone spiked my ice tea? I tried not to look down at the blood that I could feel soaking through my jacket and onto my trembling hands. Stay with me, Blondie. She gave a little moan. Whew.

I never had to deal with anything like this before. I once had an intern faint on me during his very first court appearance, but that was about it. I pressed down on the gushing wound as if my own life depended on it. Where were the paramedics? My legs were getting numb. I didn't dare to shift from my kneeling position.

As I was lost in frenzied thought, I didn't notice that Fay was crouching right in front of Blondie and me. I did not like the look in her eyes. Or that her fangs were out. Or that she was lowering herself over Blondie.

"Oh no, honey, you don't want to do that," I croaked. "You have your whole life ahead of you. You don't want to spend it in a silver cell. Listen to me, you already got one chance, don't ruin it now…"

A pack of daring men were trying to pull the little girl away, but she shook them off as if they were rag dolls. Oh no. She was going to drain Blondie of the blood she needed desperately.

"She smells good," Fay whispered. She looked entranced.

What, and I smelled like crap? Maybe I needed a new deodorant. Or maybe it was the garlic on my breath. I should have eaten more.

The child lowered her head again. More men tried to pull her away, but she did not budge. Honestly, was no one in this bar wearing silver? Blondie stared at me in terror. I'm sorry, I thought. Goodbye. I'll keep pressing on your wound just in case you survive this somehow. Please put in a good word for me when you see Saint Peter. Or maybe you'll get 72 virgins, although I'm not sure what you'd do with them.

"Fay," someone whispered hoarsely. "Stop."

Fay looked back at the speaker and hesitated. It was Eric! His eyes were barely fluttering.

"That's because she's yours right?" Fay asked. Oh sorry, was I about to eat that pie you were saving for later?

The sheriff closed his eyes. Kids say the darndest things. Or maybe he just passed out.

"No, I'm not his," Blondie gasped. "I belong to no one."

I didn't bother to lecture her that now was not the time for an I-am-Woman-hear-me-roar moment.

She got a _uh oh_, look of regret on her face. "I mean, yes, I am his," she amended faintly.

I scrutinized her pretty features and remembered where I had seen her before. Her name was Snooki, or something like that. She was sitting with Eric that time when I went to Fangtasia. So she was why Eric had wanted to come here. They had seemed distant then, and even more so now. Eric had strange ways of wooing a now ex girlfriend. She was probably one of the many that he had.

"Her blood is all over you," Fay told me matter of factly. For some reason, the fact that she was a 15 year old girl in a yellow sundress with a ribbon in her braid made this so much more eerie. If some big nasty guy had said that, I would have shrugged it off. Maybe I've seen too many horror movie trailers. The creepiest villains were always the ones in pigtails. Snooki/Blondie was looking reeeaaally pale now, despite her tan. _At least she won't die of skin cancer. _I couldn't tell if she was breathing. And I had a hungry vampire to fend off and no spare hands. But fortunately, I could spare some blood, unlike Snooki.

And so, I just shut my eyes and stayed put when Fay bit into my neck.


	6. Chapter 6

Eric was clutching a bottle of True Blood. Pam was standing next to him. "You saved my Sookie," he said.

Ah. Close enough. I was never good with names.

I looked around. I was in a bed, Sookie was in a second one on the other side of the room. There was a drawn back curtain between us.

"We thought we had lost both of you," added Pam. "Such an awful waste that would have been." Oh no, the filet mignon almost spoiled. Good thing we got it in the fridge on time.

"I thought you were dead," I told Eric. Then I realized my bad choice of words.

"I've been a vampire for over 1000 years. It takes more than that to kill me." Wow he was old. Old enough to remember the Vikings. I'm sure he would have fit right in.

"Fay told me that your blood was very bland," Pam said. She was clearly disappointed. "Not as good as Sookie's would have been."

Gee sorry. Next time I'll inject myself with some seasoning. Fay. Where was Fay?

"What happened to Fay?" Please don't tell me someone staked her. Such a young girl, with a traumatic life. I wondered if she would ever be normal, as normal as an undead individual could be.

Eric and Pam exchanged glances.

"A bunch of people tried to pull her off, but she was too strong for them," Eric said proudly. Then he grew somber. "One of the police officers had to silver her."

Ahhh. So she was in custody. Feeding on a human in public was illegal. Automatic jail sentence. No matter what. It was the equivalent of a man waving his weenie in a public playground. I didn't understand how teens could get away with nipping and sucking face in a mall when a vampire couldn't even nip and suck neck in a bar.

"I'll see what I can do about her situation," I sighed. "But you have to control her better."

I thought of her teeth in my neck and shivered. I had never donated blood in my life. I was scared of needles. It didn't help that there was a giant needle in my arm, hooked to a bag of blood. In my other arm there was ANOTHER needle, attached to an IV. I turned my head at Sookie so I wouldn't have to think about fangs, blood, and needles.

"You should just send her flowers," I told Eric. "I don't think you're making her very happy by hanging around her workplace, where she's stuck and can't get away from you." I was just full of unsolicited advice tonight.

Pam clapped a hand over her mouth and Eric glared at me. "I was protecting her," he insisted.

A third vampire entered the room. Wow, Sookie and I were popular tonight. Or maybe the newcomer had come for the lovely Eric. Confirming my suspicion, he nodded at the tall blond.

"Stand guard outside the room until dawn," Eric ordered. "Let no harm come to Sookie. If possible, and you can do so without compromising Sookie's safety, protect Dana as well."

Ummm, thanks? What exactly did we need protection from? Drunken rednecks that liked to sexually harass waitresses? Vampires that wanted a taste of my bland blood and Sookie's premium blood? He was posting a bloodsucking creature outside our door to protect us from other bloodsucking creatures. Great.

The new vampire balked. "You want me to protect humans?"

Eric bared his fangs. "I am your sheriff and you will do as I command!"

The minion bowed low and zipped outside.

Wow. That was sort of hot. I tried to imagine myself baring my teeth at one of my subordinates and saying, "I am your division chief and you will do as I command!" I laughed.

"Thank you, but no." Sookie mumbled. She was awake now. "You shouldn't have made a scene at the bar. I handle this kind of stuff all the time." The Protector of Damsels and Commander of Minions was at her side in literally a second.

"You need to quit that job," he snapped.

They started bickering like an old married couple, mostly over whether she was "his" or not. So they weren't a couple. He was just a stalker. A hot one, so that somehow made it more acceptable. Somehow I had a feeling that this possession didn't go both ways. I wondered how many other women, men, or transsexuals Eric claimed as "his".

If Eric Northman told me he was his, I would have said OK! and flung my legs in the air. But knowing men, that would have probably made him lose interest instantly.

He stormed out, with a chuckling Pam in tow.

"He's sexy," I said to no one in particular. I felt like talking to distract me from that GIANT needle in my arm.

"Yes," Sookie replied.

"You're sure you don't want him?"

"So he can drink me? Use me? Maybe even lose control and drain me?"

Excellent point. She was smarter than she looked.

"I'd be mad too if he told me to quit my job," I admitted.

"But you actually have a good job."

"You're too good for the one you have. You should become a bodyguard." Or a relationship advisor.

"It's all I got. I can't just give it up and become a kept woman."

I respected that. "I'd quit my job for 3 months in exchange for one night of sex with him." Too much info, to a near stranger. Maybe there were drugs in my IV.

"He's very good. I walked in on him once."

"Maybe I'll walk in on him sometime." It was probably the most I'd get out of him.

I drifted off to sleep thinking of sex with Eric Northman. Too bad he was taken, as much as Sookie denied it. She was brave, she had pride and independence, but so did a lot of other women who were much more attractive, much more accomplished, and much more interesting. Whatever it was that made a powerful, 1000 year old vampire so infatuated with her, I couldn't see it. But then, I had only met her twice. Maybe he liked the chase. Maybe she was a virgin. Men. They were all the same.

#

Home sweet home. It was such a relief to get back to my apartment before 8 pm on a workday. Most lawyers who work for mega firms are forced to work 90 hours a week, but government employees such as me could typically enjoy an 8 to 5 workday. Ones that don't do vampire cases, that is.

I kicked off my shoes at the front door (I prefer being barefoot) and hung my keys on a peg. I was still glowing from a much needed Zumba workout and a happy hour with friends.

"Midniiight," I called. He didn't respond, as usual. Maybe I should get a dog. One that l could take kayaking. And running. And he'd come when I called.

"Here, kitty," I cooed. I walked into the living room and stopped in my tracks.

Michelangelo's _David_ had come to life and was lying on my sofa. But _David_ had thoughtfully donned a tiny little Speedo thing between stepping off his pedestal and coming to my house. And he had stuck a banana in there to compensate for what his sculptor had never given him. I feared (hoped) the fabric would rip. His face was covered in a green paste and there were cucumber slices over his eyes.

My 6', 220 lb, rugby playing roommate Gary was wearing a 2 o' clock shadow and a red dress. He was rubbing oil onto his friend's feet. _What the f…_

"I knew you were wearing my clothes!" I cried. "And that's _my_ mint julep mask!" I pointed at the tube lying on the coffee table next to them.

"I'll buy you another one," Gary replied carelessly. For him, money solved everything, as he made a lot of it. He recently made junior partner at DLA Piper. Their toilets flushed mineral water and their windows were paned with diamonds.

"You'll get oil on my dress."

"I'll buy you another one," he repeated.

I huffed off into the kitchen. Normally, Gary kept his private business out of the common areas. He liked to "experiment." Exclusively with men.

We had a symbiotic relationship. When his parents came to visit, I moved into his room and we pretended to be a couple. When my parents came to visit, he talked with a lisp and made a lot of hand gestures. All the protections of living with a man without the living in sin. We'd occasionally be each other's dates for work functions so no one would guess his big secret and I wouldn't look like an old maid loser.

I opened the fridge. To my astonishment, there was a 4 pack of True Blood sitting in there. I backtracked to the living room and stared uneasily at the unexpected guest. That slicked blond hair, the long legs, muscular arms, and smirk (even through the facial) were all too familiar.

"Good evening," _David_ said. He lifted one of the cucumber slices to peer at me with a striking blue eye.

It was Eric Northman. What the hell was he doing in my house. How the hell did he ever meet my roommate. Then I realized I didn't care. Gosh those were nice pecs.

"I'll say," he drawled. "You must be quite fun in bed if you walk in on a scene like this and your first concern is a borrowed dress."

Actually, I don't think I even remembered how to have sex anymore. I didn't bother to tell him that. Let him think I was a porn star.

His eyes flickered from Gary to me. "I think it would look better on you. You should try it on."

To my shame, I took a full 5 minutes to think of a response. I wasn't used to getting hit on by people who weren't paving cement. And I really wasn't expecting to come home to a cross dressing spa session in my living room. And that Speedo was really distracting.

"Hummph," came my brilliant response.

"You weren't in the office," the half naked vampire said coolly.

Excuuuuse me for not being at your beck and call. "There's nothing more I can do about Fay," I told him with my last shreds of patience. "I lied to the police for her. I pulled every string I could to get the charges dropped. She got on caught on camera. If there's any backlash about it, it's out of my hands now."

Eric reached into his pants, which were lying on the floor, and pulled out a yellow ribbon, a little strip about half an inch wide an 8 inches long. "It's from Fay. She wanted you to have it."

My heart dropped. Oh my God. Was this all that was left of her? She was supposed to have been released from jail. Did some fanatical nutcase get to her? Did the vampires put her down like a rabid dog?

Eric must have seen the look on my face. "Her human parents came forward when they saw her on the news. She was sent to live with them in Texas."

With that, he slipped into his clothes and left without bothering to wash the green stuff off his face.

"Damnit, you scared him off," Gary wailed. "I think he was trying to get me naked!"

I clutched the ribbon. Eric Northman may have had 1000 years to practice lying, but I knew a defense mechanism when I saw one. I picked up my tube of mint julep mask and silently went to my room.

#

_20 hours earlier…_

Fay huddled in a corner of the cell. Eric sat across from her.

"I thought they let me go," she said softly.

"The human police let you go."

"I shouldn't have drank from Dana. I knew it would get me in trouble but I wasn't thinking at the time."

"You shouldn't have done it with all those people watching. They all have video on their cell phones these days."

"Was Dana the one who got me out of trouble with the humans?"

"Yes." Bless her uptight little ass.

"Then where am I now?"

"Vampire jail."

"Am I going to get the true death?" She knew the consequences of straying from the mainstreaming effort in a post Russell Edgington world.

"The king managed to make an exception for you." Bill Compton had proved himself useful for something.

"Then why am I still here?"

"Your human parents have been found. You will be released to them once they arrive." So she could be their problem now. It had been one of the Authority's conditions in exchange for sparing her life for the transgression of drinking a human in public, and getting caught on video.

"Do I have to stay with them?" Eric did not miss Fay's fearful look as 15 years of bad memories came rushing back to her. This girl should have never been turned, he thought. Unstable humans made worse vampires.

"I won't let that happen." A new vampire did not belong with humans, especially ones that had mistreated her. He could tell that she didn't believe him.

"I would rather die than even glimpse them again."

The sheriff had no answer nor solution. His power was great, but not unlimited.

"My time with you was the happiest time of my life." They had only known each other for less than a month. Fay hesitated. "May I give you a kiss?" She asked shyly.

Eric nodded.

Fay leaned over and gave the ancient vampire a peck on the cheek.

"I've never kissed a boy before," she giggled.

"Well now you have." Eric smiled, just for her sake. In any other circumstances, he would have not have tolerated being called a boy.

She pulled a yellow ribbon out of her hair. "Would you—give this to Dana?" she swallowed hard.

"She will be glad to have it."

Eric stayed with Fay until dawn was so near that the human guards came to relieve the vampire guards.

On his way out, he glamoured the sentry into leaving Fay's cell unlocked. He committed treason by doing so. It was all he dared to do at the moment. He knew there were surveillance cameras everywhere.

"You remember how to hit dirt?" he asked cryptically.

"What need, Sheriff?" Fay chirped. "The sun will come up tomorrow!" she sang.

As he went to ground in the brink of time, he wondered if he had done enough for the girl. He didn't need a bond forged by blood to know that Fay was finally at peace.

**AN**:

Be sure to check out:

**DreamsfortheDead**'s I Wanna Do Bad Things with You, starring a snarky, hilarious, and spunky OC

**LylSev**'s slightly angsty but sweet Eric and Pam fics

**LoveyHowl**'s You Know Why, a beautiful Bill and Tara romance

**WandersFar**'s Bill Compton is Not the Only Repairman in Town with over 100 reviews

**Murgatroid-98**'s Carpathian mountain fics

**Nalondria or Johnquelle**'s Vampire Knight story!

And THANK YOU to all of my reviewers, my readers: **Madame Thome, excusemeb, Bkaa19, msjackson, TeeRah, wheresmyvikingvamp, faediner, La Noir Rose, Michacrush, Isis, Janaina**!


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:**

**RATING CHANGING TO M NEXT CHAPTER**

Pam gingerly propped her leg up on the sofa and tuned to VTV, the cable channel that catered to vampires. After a True Blood commercial, Dean Winters in his black suit and tie glared ominously into the camera.

"_I'm a silver bullet lodged in an artery two inches from your heart_," he announced. He stood rigidly still and wore a metal hat that looked like the tip of a bullet.

Then, "_I'm a Drainer who chained you up and drained you of all your blood."_ He took a swig of a red liquid in a vial, rolled his eyes back, and shivered.

The scene cut to him looking scorched. _"I'm a fire that started in your daytime hiding place."_ He grinned evilly.

"_Mayhem_ _is coming. Are you in good hands_? The Allstate logo came on the screen.

Pam shuddered and glanced at her leg.

#

"I can give you the sun!" wailed the prisoner. "Spare me, I swear I'll do anything you want." He gripped the silver bars of his cell but let go with a scream when they burned his weathered, olive hands. "The sun! I can let all vampires walk in the sun!"

The king of Louisiana watched this via the surveillance feed on his office computer. He picked up the phone and called a number on speed dial.

"American Vampire League, this is Nan," said a pleasant, professional voice.

"I have him."

There was a pause on the other line. "Are you sure it's him?" Nan's tone changed dramatically. All business. Ice cold.

"Sheriff Northman said he's positive."

"Gather all the sheriffs. I'll be there in an hour."

_Click._

#

I sat at the head of the conference table and joined my new team of handpicked deputies. Everyone was there already. Good. Ethan, my vampire investigator, was there too, as well as a new investigator who had apparently been a werewolf all along.

I had wanted more diversity in the Supernatural Crimes Unit, and I got it. It looked bad if only humans were prosecuting vampires, were animals, and whatever other creatures would choose to reveal themselves to the public. There were also cultural nuances and barriers to consider, I wanted to make sure that my team represented a fair cross section of the population we were trying to put away.

As I gave them a Welcome to Supe Crimes pep talk on why we were the most badass, elite, and hot shit DA's to ever grace this planet, I scrutinized each of them.

Human 1. Arthur Potts. Lots of expertise in gang crimes. Should be useful in werewolf cases, as weres tended to have a pack mentality and organization structure similar to that of human gangs. His metallic purple tie looked amazing against his lavender shirt. Very metrosexual. Very classy.

Human 2. Laura Schitzgerald. She was technically part of the Financial Crimes Unit, but I'd be able to borrow her if I needed her. My own expertise was in sex crimes and domestic violence, I didn't know a stock dividend from insider trading. Thus, if we ever got any vampire embezzlers, she'd be available to try that case at night. She wore a pale gray pantsuit and a sheer green scarf. I liked scarves. Her highlights looked fantastic.

The were emu. Ralph Mayco. An emu sort of looked like an ostrich, but uglier. I had looked it up on Wikipedia when I saw it on his application. I suppose he could have had it worse, at least he didn't change into a pigeon at the full moon. But then, a pigeon could fly. He had been a part of the office for a few years but I had never met him before because he had been at one of the branches. He wasn't a newbie anymore but he wasn't seasoned enough to take anything too serious. But for a DA of his rank, his trial experience was damn impressive. As were those engraved cufflinks. They had his initials on them.

The vampire. Luke Polarski. His experience had mostly been in civil litigation, and he had only done 2 jury trials before. I'd start him out slow with little cases. However, he had gotten his law degree in the past 20 years, which was more than what I could say for most of the other vampires that had applied for the job. He had also been made just 4 years ago. I wanted a relatively new vampire, not an ancient one who looked down on humans and wanted to sabotage my team.

His jacket and pants were two different shades of black. I almost keeled over. I looked again. The jacket was more of a jet black. The pants were a more subdued, matte black. They. Weren't. Cut. From. The. Same. Cloth. _AND_, he was wearing a patterned tie with a patterned shirt. Weren't vampires supposed to be good dressers? I took a deep breath. Oh well. Can't have everything.

"…No matter what your prior allegiance was, your first duty is now to the people of the State of Louisiana," I concluded. I gave the shifters and vampires an especially firm look.

Then I doled out some cases.

"I have a were panther gang rape," I told Arthur. "But the victim is a male human and all the defendants are part of this inbred group who wanted to use him to impregnate themselves. I'll take lead on this one, you take second." The gender role reversal would make this case much more difficult in many ways.

He nodded.

"There's a were initiation related death, I'm charging it as manslaughter. It's all yours." I pushed the file across the table in Arthur's general direction.

I didn't have anything for Laura yet.

I handed off a bunch of were domestic violence cases to Ralph. "You'll find case law saying that a human's fists and limbs can be considered 'deadly weapons' for the purpose of the sentence enhancement," I told him. Using deadly weapons or causing great bodily injury in the commission of a crime carried a heavier penalty. "And if you sic your dog on someone, the dog can also be considered a deadly weapon. So if the defendant shifted into a dangerous animal before assaulting his victim, it should be an easy conviction. You might have a harder time nabbing the defendant who beat his girlfriend in penguin form, though." It had been the full moon. "Try to plead that one out. Drop the deadly weapon charge if you have to. But don't offer anything less than a domestic battery."

I tugged out another file. "And here's an indecent exposure. This 35 year old were raccoon keeps shifting back and forth in the middle of residential neighborhoods when he knows there are people watching. He has a right to shift whenever he needs to, and he can't help being naked when he turns back to human form, but he doesn't have to do it in front of a kid's birthday party." He didn't need to oil up his body before these shifting sprees, either.

I looked through what vampire cases I had. Homicide, rape, battery with great bodily injury, witness intimidation, kidnap, pimping, baby stealing, baby draining, progeny abuse… Hmmm. Nothing I could pass off to a rookie. I dug further.

"How about a nice Failure to Register?" I asked apologetically. "And a statutory rape?" _Please don't get insulted and quit your job_. They were normally the types of cases I'd give to an intern.

To my relief, Luke's eyes lit up with a, "You're letting me do a trial! No research, writing, or document review?"

"Yeah!" I beamed like I was giving him a real special treat. I didn't explain to him that criminal attorneys are song and dance lawyers, our job is to shoot our mouths in front of captive audiences that were too dumb/honest/had too much free time to get out of jury duty. Any papers we write are copied and pasted from a template. This office encouraged plagiarism.

I was very happy with my new team, but there was just one little thing that was bothering me about Vampire Luke. And it wasn't his clothes.

#

"We can't turn him over to the humans," Nan said as soon as she stormed into Bill's office. "An undead sociopath that can walk in the sun, turning children left and right? The Vampire Rights Amendment is never going to pass at this rate."

"He's not exactly a vampire is he?" commented the sheriff of Area 3. His face loomed on a quarter of the viewing screen. The sheriffs of Areas 1, 2, and 4 were also on webcam.

"Vampire, primordial ancestor of modern vampires, what's the difference," Nan snapped. "If it drinks blood, it's our mess to cover up. If it procreates like a rabbit, it's an even bigger mess."

She glanced around. "Where the hell is Northman?" Her sharp, black leather jacket mirrored her current mood.

"Here." Eric filled the doorway.

"Of course," The AVL rep sneered. "Always making an entrance. What took you so long? To catch an itty bitty vampire, that is."

"He is nearly 6,000 years old," Eric said with a firm set to his mouth. "We lost some good people while trying to subdue him." Pam had nearly been one of them. But he had trained her well. And she was healing nicely, with large doses of his blood, which she had tried to refuse out of pride.

"_I'm not nursing anymore_," she had chided. "_That was a hundred years ago_."

"Awwww, how tragic," came Nan's sarcastic reply. "You can make some new vampires to replace them. No wait, _he _already has! The youngest one was 3 months old! Do you know how hard it is to cover up the turning of a 3 month old human! That's just an infant, even by human standards. How could you let this happen!"

The sheriff of Area 2 shifted uncomfortably and smoothed her hair. Eric knew that there had been a few such incidents in her area.

"The euthanizer is still in therapy," Nan continued. "We might have to stake him too, just to keep his mouth shut. Goddamn wimp. Vampires don't come with balls anymore."

"We have him now though," Bill said in a placating way. "He cannot escape the silver."

"Yes we have him," mocked Nan. "But what of his blood starved, day walking spawn?"

Eric's eyes widened. He had not known that the prisoner's progeny could also survive the sun.

"We need to corral all of his creations. The estimate is that there are at least 12 at large in Louisiana alone."

The others had been "euthanized" or failed to fend for themselves, no doubt. Northman noticed that Nan was avoiding the terms "progeny" or "children."

"Most of them are highly unstable, like him. He has a penchant for immortalizing the abused and crazies. Usually pre teens."

"I will gladly execute him myself," offered Luis, the sheriff of Area 1.

Eric raised his eyebrows. Somebody hadn't read the memo.

"Do you have any idea who his protector is?" Bill exclaimed. "To harm him is to declare war on Oklahoma. Their queen is convinced that he's on the brink of discovering a way to day walk. Did you even read the memo?"

Luis turned pink.

"Clearly not." The AVL rep rubbed it in. She should be kissing ass, trying to get the VRA passed, but she was in fucking Louisiana instead. She was angry, someone would have to bear the brunt of her mood. "Enough of this, I need his statement for the Authority."

Bill flipped some switches, made a quick phone call, and his prisoner's face appeared on one of the computer monitors.

"Urukagina Lugalanda," Bill said. "Can you hear me?"

Eager nodding.

"You will explain your transgressions."

The tiny vampire—or whatever he was, trembled. "I am Slave-of-Urukagina-then-Lugalanda, after the masters I served in my human life," he said humbly. "I go by Urukagina Lugalanda for short. I was born in the servitude of the city state of Lagash in Sumer. I was never given a name of my own. I was made a eunuch at the age of 8. I was… _transformed_ at the age of 19 by a traveler who came from the Indus Valley. She called herself Hindon Alamgirpur, after where she was born, and the river where she was drowned when her husband deemed her an adulterer. She was 13 and with child at the time. She was innocent of the accusations against her. In her vengeance and sorrow she became a _vetala_. Her spirit roamed the earth and possessed corpses at will."

Eric mulled over this information. He was aware of scanty myths that claimed that the mother of all vampires originated from ancient India/Pakistan. Of course, the Chinese, Middle Easterners, and Egyptians also claimed to have hosted the progenitor of vampires. However, the Romanians insisted that the first "_real"_ vampires were one of them. They were wrong, of course. Eric himself was far older than Vlad Tepes, and Eric was very much a "_real" _vampire, as the modern world understood it. As was his maker Godric, who was turned when Rome's economy was based on agriculture.

"When I neared the end of my human life, I was left in a mass grave with other slaves. Hindon Alamgirpur tried to enter my body but my _gidim_ had not yet departed. Fearing the underworld, my _gidim_ clung to my body and fought off Hindon Alamgirpur. I subsisted off of the blood and fluids of the dead and dying that were piled on top of me. When I garnered the strength to rise, my _gidim_ rose with my body intact. I was not quite a _vetala_, but I was not what you call a vampire either. I am some sort of corporal _edimmu_, perhaps, or something quite other_._"

Indeed. The term "vampire" had not even become widespread until the 18th century. Until then, Eric had called himself by a variety of different terms, none of which quite fit. He didn't stink like a _draugr, _ couldn't shapeshift like an _abchanchu, _and he didn't bear the mark of the covenant, so he probably didn't count as a male _estries_.

Vampires who were made long before the 1700's liked to joke that they suffered from identity crises until they were properly named.

"I created my first child by accident, during my wanderings in Egypt. It was difficult to find fresh corpses, so I took from the offerings of human blood that were left at a temple of Sekhmet. A worshipper found me, we fought, he cut me to appease his goddess, and I cut him to drink from him. He drank back to weaken me. But when he rose from his mortal death, he was not quite like me. His _ka_ never once left his body. He preferred the blood of the living. He was… different. More like you, but not entirely."

Urukagina Lugalanda got a look of awe. "He had 2 teeth that would grow long to feed. He did not require a knife to pierce flesh or to make children of his own! Sekhmet had blessed him for his devotion."

The self classified _edimmu _began to rock and sob. "But my grandsire burned in the sun. They were cursed to wander the night. And so my firstborn prayed to his gods, offering silver in the hopes that his children would be able to face the glory of Ra without being thrown into the clutches of Anubis. He traded all of his wordly possessions for those rings of silver, for he did not have enough for gold. I had nothing to contribute, for I had wandered the world with nothing but a sharp rock for feeding and a tunic for modesty."

The Sumerian sobbed harder. "His gods must have been displeased with his sacrifice. After the 10th day of futile prayer, my child repudiated his gods. And then, the touch of silver burned us all. Me, my child, his children.

"My first born child, he had given everything, he had not even a blade. And so, while I slept, he fashioned himself a knife of wood to cut out his aching heart so that he may live without pain. But instead he met Anubis."

Even Nan looked subdued. But she somehow summoned her inner bitch. "Enough with the history lessons," she snapped. "Defend yourself against multiplying like a cockroach."

Urukagina looked indignant. "I gave my children the gift of eternal life. I made them in their prime, before their mortal bodies grew old and crippled. In them, my firstborn lives." Then he turned away and refused to say any more.

Bill cut the feed by pressing the remote button harder than necessary.

"We should get rid of his protector, then we can do with him as we please," said Sheriff Blackburn.

"We must first attempt negotiation," Bill said firmly. "I will not expose my subjects to war against another state."

Nan rolled her eyes. "Just don't spill any mortal blood." She stalked out.

"Are we certain that Oklahoma even knows that we have him?" Eric asked.

"Our spies tell us that their spies are aware of this. I expect their queen will contact me soon, or perhaps I should call her first as a courtesy." Bill looked troubled.

The queen of Oklahoma was not known for diplomacy.

**AN**:

Today at work I learned to not take anything for granted, and always go in prepared. I feel like if I had taken an extra 20 minutes to look at the file and talk to the client, I could have made a difference in his life today. I let my ego get in the way. I sort of messed up big time, but I've learned from the experience. I'm still really upset though. I hope this update cheers me up.

Enjoy your weekend.


	8. Chapter 8

"I am called Jade Flower," bowed the Asian vampire, the best she could with a sword strapped to her back. She spoke with the fakest Japanese accent Eric had ever heard. "I was a lady in the court of Emperor Kangxi of the Qing Dynasty."

Eric was marginally amused. He leaned back in his chair. "A court lady? You mean a palace maid or a concubine?"

"I was not conferred with an imperial title," she said stiffly. "I never had the chance to personally serve the Son of Heaven."

"And the sword? Did you wear one while living in the Forbidden City?"

"Soon after I was turned, I took refuge with Shaolin monks. They taught me their ways."

"May I see your weapon?" Eric was genuinely interested. He liked sharp blades and things that exploded.

She handed it over without a peep. The Viking scrutinized the stainless steel blade, looking for a Made in China sticker. It was a decent replica of a _katana_, maybe even hand crafted, but he had no idea why a Shaolin trained, imperial harem reject would be carrying one. Maybe she was going for the Lucy Liu look from _Kill Bill._ He waved the sword at Jade Flower.

"First of all, a true warrior would never give up her weapon like that. Second, Shaolin monks don't use swords. That's the whole point of _martial_ arts. Third, your feet have not been bound. And that hairstyle is from the wrong dynasty. That strange…," Eric coughed, "polyester bathrobe has a phoenix on it. Only the empress herself was allowed to wear that design, on pain of death. And those moccasins are probably supposed to be Native American but were clearly beaded by an 11 year old child going blind in some third world sweatshop."

Jade Flower bit her lip but the Viking continued relentlessly. "I may have blond hair and blue eyes but my neck isn't red. The local hillbillies might eat up your pathetic Mulan act, but this is Fangtasia, not Disneyworld. We get busfuls of Asian tourists and if you're not going to offend them, you're going to have to bring more than your Wikipedia knowledge to the table. You need to fix that accent, get an authentic costume, and come up with a more interesting backstory. Actually, the backstory starts out ok, but the Shaolin part gets a little ridiculous. I want more blood and gore. Maybe you could be Wu Zetian's handmaiden, or the Pearl Concubine. With the right makeup you could look the part."

Jade Flower, or whatever her name was, nodded eagerly. "Right. Whatever you say," she said in a distinct Texan twang. "I really need this job. I've been doing odd jobs since I was turned, since I had to quit my position as a secretary. I have bartending experience, and I'm good with waiting tables. "

"Any vampire can tell that you are barely 3 years old. Who is your maker? What name are you registered under?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm Cindy Cho," she admitted. "I'm all registered and legit, but I'm not really sure who my maker is."

"You don't know who your maker is," Eric said slowly. "Were you conscious when the process started?" This was troublesome. The last thing he needed was more public outcry about unwanted turnings.

"I was," Cindy started hesitantly. "I paid for one of those services, where you get turned by an anonymous maker."

Eric's fangs came out. "That is a very grave offense," he hissed.

"I found out I had ovarian cancer," Cindy explained quickly. "I was desperate, I was going through a mid life crisis, so I went to one of those vampire whorehouses, and one of the girls turned me for $1000."

Eric looked angrier than ever. "You defile my kind," he said. Icicles could have started dripping from his words. "You are an abomination."

"I should leave," Cindy nearly whispered. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

"You will start next week."

"I will?"

"I don't want any unemployed makerless underage vampires running around in my area." And it was extremely hard to find Asian vampires in northern Louisiana. The country bumpkins would come in droves to stare at what they thought was an exotic specimen.

#

They came to Fangtasia at 9 pm, on a Tuesday. There were about 10 of them, dressed in the same police uniforms that their human counterparts wore, but these officers carried silver handcuffs and silver tipped batons. Their bullets were silver. Vampire cops. Also known as fang pigs. Traitors to the kind. Eric narrowed his eyes. He didn't like law enforcement. He didn't like traitors.

"Mr. Northman? We have a warrant to search your establishment," said their leader, who was in plainclothes. He wore a badge around his neck, it read E. Waynridge. He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Eric skimmed it. Based on a confidential informant and blah blah blah… probable cause to search the premises at Fangtasia… blah blah blah… for any evidence or instrumentalities of kidnap, false imprisonment, torture, blah blah blah…

The warrant had two signatures at the bottom, approved by some judge he didn't recognize, and reviewed by Dana Marsh.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyers," he said coldly. He had about 25 of them.

Waynridge shrugged. He had heard that line before. Him and his crew made a beeline for the basement, with the Viking at their heels.

Eric didn't trust cops. He didn't put it past them to plant false evidence.

The pigs did their thing, shining blacklights on the floor, swabbing at cracks, and doing their CSI routine. Yes, Eric watched that show, and made Pam watch it too. He thought it was a good way to learn about human's advances in forensic science, so that he could better clean up after himself. DNA made everything so much more complicated. And blood splatter science! He missed the days when a missing human or two would be blamed on a goblin or a nymph.

The pig leader picked up a neck shackle with gloved hands. He gingerly tugged on it, and confirmed that the other end of the chain was firmly fastened to the wall. "What are these for?" he asked casually.

"For naughty girls that need to be disciplined." Eric did not bat an eye. He had used the restraints for that purpose at least once. They were usually for actual prisoners.

"Girls as in underage girls?"

"Girls as in overeager fangbangers that are old enough to be in a bar."

"You need 10 of these?"

"I'm thinking I may need more. Some of these ladies just can't wait their turn."

"And that?" Waynridge's gaze went to a circular rack with long rods that was hanging from the ceiling.

"Eric got that from the Spanish Inquisition," Pam cut in smoothly. She strutted down the stairs in her 5 inch spikes. "We call it the carousel. Genuine antique. Unfortunately there's no place to keep it at his place, but it suits the décor doesn't it?" She smirked suggestively.

The cop kept his expression blank. "Indeed. Excuse me." He went upstairs.

Gesturing at Pam to stay in the basement, Eric discreetly went upstairs so he could eavesdrop. He busied himself at the bar while Waynridge stepped outside to make a call. Eric could hear everything, despite the cop's obvious efforts to not be overheard.

"_Hello?" _It was Dana Marsh on the other line.

"_It's Ethan."_

"_Did you find anything?" _She sounded hopeful.

"_His basement is a dungeon. He's trying to play it off as an S & M fantasy room."_

"_How is it like a dungeon?"_

"_Concrete floors and walls, reeks of bleach, neck restraints along the walls, this antique torture rack thing hanging from the ceiling, chains, and rope. Some of the chains are silver."_

"_Are there any mattresses, blankets, cushions, paddles, whips, gags, or sex toys down there?" _Eric's eyebrows shot up. The meek, innocent looking Dana sure knew a lot about sex in a dungeon. He wondered if she was a screamer. The demure ones always turned out to be the most primal in bed.

"_Nothing. It's bare. I'm not buying the sex thing at all. You want me to take him in for questioning?"_

"_On what basis?"_

"_Don't you think the bleach is real shady? And the silver chains?"_

"_Unless you find anything that's actually illegal, I'd rather have him lead us to the bigger fish." _Eric smirked. There was no bigger fish, but he'd let her think that. _"Just finish up and give him a nice apology, like you got nothing. You don't have enough probable cause for an arrest, and he's too smart to admit anything. He'd probably invoke anyway." _Indeed, Eric knew from watching CSI that all the smart suspects would demand their attorneys once taken in for questioning. That show was a great guide on how to mainstream.

"_This vampire may have been directly responsible for the disappearance of 4 humans."_

"_Crazy bigots who burned down a house with 3 vampires and a human in it. I'm more worried about the human trafficking. Finish up, then stand down."_

Ethan grumbled but assented. When he hung up, Eric rushed back to the basement.

When the search was complete, Waynridge gave a perfunctory, "Thank you for your time, sir, apologies for the inconvenience."

"I'll need all of your names so I can list you in the lawsuit," Eric replied. Pam rolled her eyes. She knew he was just putting on a show.

"The warrant has all the information you need, sir." Then the cops filed out and sped away.

So Dana was calling the shots. Interesting. Eric had half expected to be hauled off to the station anyway. Still, this was unacceptable. A human, ordering around vampires to search his business. He was the sheriff of Area 5. He should be the only one that vampires obeyed. Speaking of vampires under his command, he called Luke Polarski on his cell.

"A search warrant!" Eric shouted. "I told you to keep Marsh off my ass!"

"I'm sorry, Sheriff," said Polarski. "She's my boss you know, and glamour doesn't work on her so…"

"_I_ am your boss! You failed me! How. Could you fail me!"

Without waiting for an answer, Eric hung up. He wasn't used to women having power over him, unless they were vampire queens. He especially wasn't used to humans having any control over him. Hell, he wasn't used to anyone being above him. He didn't like it.

Pam had a funny smile on her face. "Isn't it hot, being dominated by her like this? I say she did this on purpose just to get in my pants." The corset clad vampire wasn't wearing any pants at the moment, but her meaning was clear.

"Not everything is about you, Pam."

"What are you so worried about? We have nothing to hide." Anymore. The last batch of prisoners, a band of V dealers, had been drained and disposed of a long time ago.

"It's the principle of it. I'm being treated like a second class citizen, I'm being singled out because of what I am."

Pam just laughed in his face. She knew very well he didn't like his turf being trod on at the whim of a human.

That Marsh bitch had to go. Unfortunately, dead humans were bad PR. Also, the Authority had been very clear that she was not to be touched. Or turned, for that matter. Shame.

If she couldn't be killed off or glamoured, maybe he could fuck her into submission. Come to think of it, Pam had a point. It _was_ sort of hot to be dominated like this, by a pesky little human. It was… entertaining. For now. It was mostly annoying.

He went to his computer and started browsing through available real estate. He needed a new place to conduct interrogations and hold prisoners. It was his duty as sheriff, after all. Plus he didn't trust the human justice system with its presumption of innocence, right against self incrimination, blah blah blah. He didn't understand any of it.

Just look at the Phystler case. Although it should have been obvious to any intelligent being that the draining had been premeditated, the jury had hung 10-2, in favor of conviction. Rather than retrying the case, Marsh had offered the defendant a plea of Murder 2, so he could avoid the stake and serve a life sentence instead.

Now the redneck public was mad about the results, and Nan was on another massive PR campaign. This meant Eric had to stare solemnly into a camera, saying stupid lines like, "Truth. Most victims are murdered by a friend or relative. Not a stranger vampire. Protect yourself with the truth." Or, "Truth. Most victims get sexually assaulted by someone they have invited into their own home. Not a stranger vampire in a dark alley. Protect yourself with the truth."

Eric was fed up with this bullshit, and he needed some protection from being Nan's bitch. If he had to be whipped, he should at least get some sex for his trouble. Consensual, of course. Truth. All people who slept with Eric Northman wanted him badly.

#

A few nights later, Eric was in his office, handling boring sheriff stuff. He sifted through the mail and found an advertising flyer from the Aryan Brotherhood. "CALLING ON ALL WHITE VAMPIRES TO IMMORTALIZE THE WHITE RACE!" it screamed.

Humans. Didn't they know that the pigmentation in one's skin had no bearing on one's ability to fight, kill, or torture?

He tossed the flyer in the recycling bin because he didn't want the planet to be barren and treeless in the next thousand years.

Bills, more bills, and a flyer from the Second Start Evangelical Church of Christ, "THE LIGHT OF GOD WILL NOT BURN YOU. It's NOT too late for redemption! Vampires welcome!" That also went in the recycling bin. A coffin ad, a tax audit, then a Vampagra ad, "Vampires need love too. Eight hours is not enough!" Eric made to toss it, then hesitated. How long _was_ enough? He set it aside just in case.

Pam poked her head through the door.

"_Dana_ is here!" she mouthed. She held up 10 fingers. Apparently she wanted 10 minutes off work so she could have happy time with her soon to be new pet. Or so she thought. It wasn't often that his child engaged in wistful thinking. She usually got what she wanted, as she should. But there had to be boundaries.

He just stared her down.

_Please? _She looked like a girl begging her daddy for his credit card. _Five?_

"Thank you, Pam," said the object of Pam's excitement. "I need to speak with Eric alone."

Looking sulky, Pam huffed away, Dana entered Eric's office and shut the door. She took a seat across from him and looked at him steadily. Although her expression was neutral, almost politely interested, he could tell she was seething. A human would not have been able to tell, but vampires were masters of understanding their prey.

"I accept your apology for sending police officers to disrupt my business," Eric said calmly. He thought of ways she could make it up to him.

She stared at him, scrutinizing his expression. Eric realized how much she resembled a modern angel of justice, all righteous and sharp in her pinstripes. She had a wholesome girl next door quality to her, like Sookie, but as Sookie appeared to be a harmless Southern belle, Dana carried herself with the authority of a public servant who would never abuse her enormous power. It intrigued him. He was drawn to power.

"I was going to file a lawsuit," he continued smoothly. "But if you will reassure me, in writing, that this will never happen again…"

"Absolutely not," she replied just as smoothly. "If there is probable cause, a warrant will issue."

Eric raised an eyebrow and his tone dripped with condescension. "Have you not searched every inch of my bar? I am not involved in illegal activity. You do not understand. Humans are willing to pay for overpriced drinks just to stare at us because we are beautiful and glorious. They flock to us. They flock to _me._" He leaned forward and switched to a seductive whisper. "As they very well should. I have had over a thousand years of practice in pleasing your sex." His eyes glowed with promise.

"Humans flock to you?" she repeated quietly. "They'd do anything for you wouldn't they?" She smiled a funny little smile. "It's lucrative, isn't it? Almost too easy to be true. All these fawning human girls, they'll already sleep with anyone, why not have them do it for money? Does it make you feel like a man, when a woman will do _anything_ for you?"

The Viking frowned. This conversation was vaguely starting to remind him of those cheesy interrogation scenes in Law and Order SVU. Clearly, Dana watched too much TV.

Well, Eric liked mind fucking as much as he liked regular fucking. He walked over to her, stood behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened and held very still.

"_Anything_," he murmured into her ear. "You have no idea…"

She stood abruptly and spun away from him. Instead of being aroused, she looked distinctly angry for a moment. Then her features smoothed back into her polite puzzlement. "Tell me," she said softly.

"Let me show you." Eric took a step towards her.

Dana's eyes widened. This was clearly not going where she wanted. She took a step back and bumped into his desk. Eric smiled like the predator he was. Dumb bitch. He'd teach her execute search warrants. He'd do some searching of his own. It was only fair.

Eric put his hands on the desk, on either side of Dana, so she was trapped between his arms. "I am many things, Dana Marsh," he purred. "But I am not a criminal_._" Well. He sort of _was_, by human standards. But he was more of a vigilante, a dark knight without that stupid bat costume. And Pam had been a prostitute/mugger (mostly mugger). A very, very long time ago. But Eric was not a pimp. Well he _was,_ but not within the meaning of Penal Code 647.

She blinked, then sort of leaned into him. He pulled away, returned to his seat, and put his feet up on the desk as if nothing had happened.

"What brings you here?" he changed the subject.

Dana paused for a moment, then settled into the seat across from him. "You're the sheriff of Area 5." All business again. She was so cool and so civil. And firm.

"Yes," answered the sheriff of Area 5.

"Shreveport is part of Area 5."

"Yes." As well as most of northern Louisiana.

"Any vampire who resides or works in your area is one of your subjects," she continued conversationally.

"Yes." Oh, and the weather _is_ nice out.

"Your subjects owe you fealty."

"Yes." Someone was telling this woman way too much about vampire politics. She should be eliminated. He could drain her right now. Pam would kill him though.

"This means that your subjects owe you their loyalty." She spoke so softly, so gently, as if she were coaxing a frightened child.

"Yes."

"You are aware of a vampire called Luke Polarski?"

"Yes." Eric had planted him personally. He needed someone to keep an eye on Dana and maybe manipulate the outcome of some of the vampire cases.

"He is your subject?"

"Technically."

"He owes you fealty." Her calm, smooth tone never wavered.

Neither did Eric's. "It's more of a formality."

"He is obligated to follow your orders." She had a nice lilt to her questioning. And those lips looked real soft.

"If the need should arise." Eric discreetly tugged at his tight jeans. Something was rising, and it was a different kind of need.

Dana was fuming at this point. He could tell by way she flexed her toes. But she smiled innocently, as if she were a virginal teenager on her first date. "Luke Polarski may be a vampire, but he is a prosecutor first."

Eric had not known it was possible for someone to say "vampire" while looking so angelic. But two could play that game. "I fail to see what his vampirism has anything to do with his job? Would you ever say that you are a prosecutor first, and a woman second?"

She didn't take the bait. "Let me put in this terms you'll understand," she said kindly. "He is my minion, not yours."

Eric sat back, incredulous. "Are you telling me to fuck off?"

Dana did not bat an eye. "I am glad that we understand each other."

Well that was polite. He had never been told to fuck off in such a sweet, innocent, and polite manner, without a hint of hostility. This was the suave Dana he saw on TV, not the easily flustered one he had usually encountered in person.

Sookie would tell him to fuck off all the time, but she'd usually be a bitch about it. It was cute, like a barky little terrier. Dana was more like a tigress, eying him steadily while licking her paw. Eric wanted to lick Dana's paw.

She stood with a cordial nod. The lady had class. He wanted to push her on his desk and make her lose that cool facade. She wanted him to fuck off? He could fuck off. He could do all sorts of things to her...

"Thank you for your time," she said graciously. She could have been thanking him for flying Delta, or buying Girl Scout cookies. She turned and left, sashaying in those stilettos that Pam loved so much.

Eric exhaled. He wanted to corrupt her in every way. He needed a cold shower, and Eric Northman didn't take cold showers.

"Yvetta!" he hollered without thinking. Damnit. If he hadn't called her a gold digging whore, his favorite dancer would have never emptied the cash registers and run off. Instead, she'd be writhing underneath him right now. He could go out to the bar and find a fangbanger, but they were so pathetic and most of them were unskilled. He leaned over, reached into the closet, and pulled out the first thing he closed his hand around, a silk, lavender blouse of some sort.

AN:

I have Dana/(fill in the blank) shippers! As a writer this is extremely exciting and flattering. To me it means that someone thinks a character I wrote is worthy of Eric/Pam/etc. Their affections are not something I take for granted (unlike Alan Ball, apparently.)

It takes a lot to impress either a 1000 year old Viking vampire who is already infatuated with a part fairy telepath or a snobby century plus old vampire who loves only shoes and her maker. Also, it would take a lot for Dana, who mostly sees the bad side of vampires in her line of work, to consider a serious relationship with a vampire. If they end up together, it will be despite all odds, because nothing could keep them apart in the end.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter is rated mild R. PG mature 16 perhaps. **

**AN: Please welcome and check out one of our newest authors: **_**madame thome**_

**Eric would read her Nordic mythology stories… **

**Thank you to all of my reviewers!**

As Eric and Pam entered Bill's house, he could hear snippets of a conversation.

"Louisiana would be honored to form an alliance with Oklahoma," said the king's disembodied voice.

"What better way than a conjugal tie between two monarchs," a woman purred suggestively. Her voice was getting closer. They were walking towards each other.

Then two came around a corner. And the woman laid eyes on Eric. Her mouth dropped, her eyes glazed over. "Or their subjects," she finished breathlessly.

She looked from him to Pam. "Yours?"

Eric nodded.

She blinked rapidly. "How so, so lovely. Very lovely. You must give us many more children."

Bill looked pleased and annoyed at the same time for some reason.

"Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area 5," he brought the woman's hand up to his lips.

Pam gave the lady an appraising look of her own. She was stunning. Like a porcelain doll, but not as creepy.

"Freyda, Queen of Oklahoma."

Not to be outdone, Pam extricated the queen's hand from Eric's, and raised it to her own lips. "Pamela Swynford de Beafort."

"Ahhh." Freyda's eyes never left Eric's face. "We will meet again. Soon." She said the last word huskily. She nodded at Bill and swept out the door. Bill retreated to his office with a satisfied nod.

Then, Eric had one of the guards open the hidden floor panel that led to the holding cells in Bill's basement. They went down the stairs and paid a visit to the sole occupant.

"Whyyy did you bring me to meet this scum?" Pam asked in her bored way. She was annoyed because she had better things to do, like shopping for new shoes. "That thiiing almost took off my leg."

"Urukagina Lugalanda is the missing link between an entirely different creature and the ancestral vampire," Eric explained. He almost sounded reverent. "Now you can examine him properly while you're not distracted by fighting for your life."

"Can't I just watch him on the Discovery Channel?"

"This is where we came from." He gestured at Urakagina, who was regarding them with polite puzzlement.

"I don't care where we came from. But let me tell him where I'm coming from." Pam turned to glare at the object of attention. "I'm not exactly one to pay Eric a compliment seeing as though his self-esteem is quite intact, but when it comes to makers, I doubt you'll find better. Without training, a vampire would most likely starve, wither to nothing and waste the most precious gift of eternal life."1

Eric puffed up despite himself. He already knew all this, but it meant so much more coming straight from his progeny.

"This has happened to most of your children, no doubt. All because you're a primitive, emasculated, fangless vampire with abandonment issues," continued Pam. "Your balls may not grow back, but that doesn't mean you have to overcompensate by sowing your wild oats in every smelly little child. They'll stay that way forever. And honest, hardworking fealty payers like me will end up paying for your orphaned seedlings."

"I gave my children a gift," insisted the undead progenitor. "Whether they live or die is in the hands of the gods." He stood and walked closer to Pam, so close that he was nearly touching the silver bars. He reached out to her, a ghostly hand flickered out of the solid hand, and Eric yanked her away. The apparition disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Eric did not like the way the captive suddenly started looking at her. Like a long lost child. Pam was _his. _

But Pam, in her youth and sense of invincibility, stayed oblivious. "Keep your nasty hands to yourself," she snarled. "Or I will tear them off and use them as a ring holder."

"Ammon!" whispered the _edimmu_ with frightening intensity. "Is it you? You have returned to me!" He slammed himself against the bars and stretched his arm towards Pam as far as it would go. He ignored the silver scorching his flesh.

Pam looked insulted. "Isn't that a boy's name?" she asked. "Do I _look _like a boy?"

In response, Eric tightened his grip on Pam's arm and made for the Corvette with lightening speed. Eric was not a protective maker, he didn't need to be. But if that _thiiing_ had retained any of the corpse jumping powers of its _vetala _maker, then…

"You're scared," Pam said in a high pitched voice. "Should I be scared? You're never scared."

"Yes," he replied honestly. "Very much." _I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I should have never brought you. The next time I come across a piece of living history, you can learn about it from the Discovery Channel. _He kept driving as if escaping a crazy spirit that could possess vampires.

**#**

"Is there anyone here who can't be objective and fair to both sides?" Judge Barker asked.

About 10 hands in the jury box shot up. I tried not to roll my eyes. Opposing Counsel Total Hottie, aka Mark Steiffer, caught my eye shot me a little grin, the kind that made me flutter. Everywhere.

_Why_ couldn't we just have mindblowing sex and forget about this stupid trial? Then I could easily forgive him for being better dressed than me. I didn't know how to compete with that deep blue tie, abalone shell cuff links, olive green suit, and beautiful smile. Bastard. Didn't he know that the prosecutor must always be the best dressed person in the room? It was in Penal Code section 756.6(a).

"Juror number 103?" asked the judge.

"I understand the presumption of innocence, but I'm biased against the defendant in this case because he's a vampire and there are 12 counts against him," the woman said snittily. She crossed her arms. "He's been arrested and charged, that's enough for me."

"Ma'am, aren't you also a vampire?"

"Yes, but umm… hmmmm… he makes us look bad, so I don't like him."

I almost laughed.

"Twelve counts, that's a good one," I heard someone mutter from the audience box. "I'm going to use that one if I get called up."

"Number 211," said Barker. _What's your lame ass excuse we've all heard before?_

"I got beaten up very badly by vampires and now I'm biased against all vampires and I'm scared of them."

"You understand that the defendant in this case had nothing to do with that incident?"

"Yes."

"How long ago was this?"

"About 10 years ago."

I bit my lip and covered my mouth.

"That was before vampires even revealed their existence? How did you know they were vampires?"

Juror 211 shifted. "They were all really white."

Well hell_oooo_. Everyone was white around here. Welcome to the deep South.

He looked straight at me. "And that DA lady, she looks white too."

Whaaa? I didn't even know how to respond to that. Should I smile? Look away? Opposing Counsel Total Hottie inspected me with exaggerated interest.

_Whitey!_ He mouthed.

"You understand that Ms. Marsh is not a vampire?" the judge looked amused. "That's her natural coloring."

Number 211 hemmed and hawed. He wasn't as sharp as Number 103.

I had never had my skin color discussed during jury selection before. These jurors were desperate to get off. Regular jury duty was bad enough, no one wanted to do it at night.

Juror 382 turned out to be an oncologist who dealt with cancer patients on a daily basis, they depended on him, and he couldn't bear to just abandon them for the 2 days this trial would take, and yes, that would be distracting to the extent that he could give neither side a fair trial.

Juror 177 had 3 cousins, a stepson, and an ex husband who was in law enforcement, and yes, that alone made her think police officers were more credible, and yes, her ex husband was always right because he was a cop, and yes, this meant she could not give the defendant a fair trial but she also could not give the prosecution a fair trial because I reminded her of the girl who stole her date at prom. Mark raised his eyebrows at me. He took a red pen, wrote a giant "A" on a piece of paper, and slid it over to me.

Juror 846 thought the defense attorney's appearance and mannerisms were shifty, he was too well dressed, and she couldn't trust him or his client or be fair and impartial. Opposing Counsel Total Hottie looked all hurt and innocent, and I smirked at him. Finally a jab at the other side of the table.

Thankfully, the time to strike jurors came. The judge excused a few, Mark and I thanked (God) and excused some more. The jurors did their musical chairs thing as the excused ones ran off triumphantly and the ones sitting in seats 13 through 20 filled the empty spots in 1 through 12. I thought one of the replacement jurors would start to cry.

Of the new jurors in the panel, there was one who didn't speak good enough English (or was good enough to fake it), another who couldn't sit through 4 hours because of a hip replacement, and another who was missing a midterm to be here. _Should have rescheduled your jury duty, bitch! _Then we got to a staid looking man who was too white to not speak English (but not white enough to be a vampire, unlike me, apparently), too young to have had a hip replacement, and too old to be missing a midterm.

"Sir, is there any reason you can't serve on this jury?" asked Barker. He looked desperate.

"None that you'd accept," came the resigned reply.

A chuckle from the audience, and a collective sigh of hope.

"Defense?"

"We're happy." Mark grinned languidly and leaned back in his chair.

"People?"

I rose, faced the jury, and smiled. "The People will accept the jury as presently constituted."

I swear I think I heard some soft clapping from the audience. Thank GOD. Done.

Now we could _finally_ move on to opening statements. No wait, the judge would have to take another hour to read the jurors instructions about circumstantial evidence versus direct evidence, and how if a person comes in with a wet umbrella and says, "It's raining really hard outside," that is perfectly good circumstantial evidence that it's raining and it's just as acceptable as direct evidence of rain, for example, going outside and seeing the rain for yourself.

Someone kill me.

The judge called a recess, and once the jurors filed out, and the defendant wandered off to grab a True Blood from the vending machine, Mark clutched my hand and held it to his heart.

"Oh, Dana," he said in a mock heartbroken way. "Who do you have to sleep with to get my client a good plea?"

I knew who I wanted to sleep with.

"Why don't you stop outdressing me and I'll dismiss the charges outright," I replied deadpan.

"Would you rather have me come in wrinkly, shabby suits?"

"No!" There was another defense attorney who got his suits from Goodwill and scrunched them up for trials. He swore it made the jury relate to him better as it emphasized his role as the underdog. I didn't know if it was true, but it still drove me up the wall, especially since his attire would make me look like the uppity representative of The Man in contrast.

"How 'bout I take you out to a nice dinner and fill you up with wine till you drop?"

I looked at him innocently. "How 'bout you disclose any witnesses or evidence you're going to put on?" I had to rub it in. I knew his defense would be, "Prove it."

He turned around and patted his butt. "This is my evidence."

With that, he sauntered off.

As I stared after his beautiful ass, I gave an internal sigh. He was way out of my league. Mark Sneiffer was so attracted to himself that his sexual orientation was Mark Sneiffer. That was part of his appeal, of course. Plus he had a girlfriend with great boobs and some sort of hotshot business degree. Some bitches had it all. At least mine were real.

#

Poor Mrs. Dullenberg was very flustered on the witness stand. She seemed aghast about my line of questioning. She was a 40 something woman, a second generation PTA mom who probably went to church every Sunday and had never dealt with this sort of thing before.

"Where was the defendant standing?" I asked.

"Right in my petunias!"

"What was he wearing?"

"Nothing at all!" She blushed.

Some of the jurors leaned forward, just a bit. Juror Number 9 had his tongue out.

"What was he doing?"

"Ahhh.. well.. he was…" Mrs. Dullenberg twisted in her seat and turned redder than the red velvet cake I had eaten for breakfast (and lunch, and dinner). I loved that buttermilk flavor, and the cream cheese frosting was so rich… "He was touching himself," she whispered.

"He was what? I'm sorry I couldn't hear you," said the court reporter. Bullshit.

"Touching himself!" the witness boomed directly into the microphone. She covered her mouth and looked into her lap.

"In what manner was he touching himself?" I wasn't being a pervert, I had to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the defendant had touched himself in a sexual manner.

"Really fast." I could barely hear her.

"Was his hand on his penis?"

"Objection, leading," said Mark. He smirked at me. Ugh, we'd be here forever.

"Overruled!" snapped Judge Barker. He, too, was getting impatient. "You may answer."

Mrs. Dullenberg looked scared and befuddled. "What…?"

"Was his hand on his penis?" I repeated gently.

"Yes."

"What sort of motions was he making with his hand on his penis?"

"It was a blur, like back and forth. Like when you're shaking a can of soda up and down."

Nice analogy. A can of soda, wow. That wouldn't fit anywhere.

"In your opinion, was he masturbating?"

I thought she was going to choke.

"Ohhh. I wouldn't know. I've never… I don't know."

OMG. You HAD to be kidding me. What was wrong with this woman? Did she never have sex? I knew she had two children, was it by immaculate conception?

"Did you see him ejaculate?" I hoped I wouldn't have to explain what that meant.

She sat up a little straighter, indignant this time. "Yes! Right onto my petunias!"

Juror Number 1, a sweet, little old lady with white hair, winced. I bet she had a flower garden herself.

"Thank you. Nothing further."

The judge raised his eyes towards the ceiling as if in silent prayer. I knew he didn't like getting dumped with night duty. "Cross!" he declared.

Mark stood and smiled genially at my witness. She smiled back, disarmed.

"Mrs. Dullenberg, this occurred at night didn't it?" he asked in a tone even gentler than my own. Copycat! Actually, I had copied him, he was a few years ahead of me.

"Yes."

"There are no street lights around your house are there?"

"No."

"You couldn't really see my client's face?"

"Not really," she shrugged. Unfortunately, she had seen more of the defendant's little head than his big head. So Mark was going with the Shaggydefense. _It wasn't me!_

"And you couldn't really see his penis?"

"Oh I saw all of _that_," she said with a newfound confidence.

Hey! She was _my _witness. How was she more comfortable with the defense attorney than me? The jurors chuckled.

"It was a full moon that night," she continued. "It was reflecting off of his whiteness, you couldn't miss him, this white naked man in my yard, gleaming in the moonlight like a statue of oily marble."

How poetic.

"How large was this man's penis?" Mark asked conversationally, without sounding creepy or perverted at all. What a sneaky defense attorney.

Mrs. Dullenberg got all shy and embarrassed again. "Ohhh, I don't know. Bigger than anything I had ever seen."

It was probably the only penis she had ever seen. And I thought I was pathetic.

"Could you show us, with your hands?"

Looking mortified, my witness complied. She held her hands apart to demonstrate the width. Or was that the length?

The judge peered over his glasses. "Looks to be about 6 inches," he said casually.

My eyebrows shot off my face. No fucking way. Did I really have to do this? I threw my pen down. "Objection!" I cried, a little louder than I had intended. "Could we please just get a ruler?"

Everyone stared at me. I realized that aside from the two female jurors and the witness, I was the only woman in the room.

A ruler was found, a proper measurement was taken. Four inches. Then all eyes went on the judge, who cleared his throat uncomfortably and told Mark to continue. Then everyone stared at the defendant, a scrawny, puny little thing. I couldn't believe anyone had decided to turn him. I could see him playing the bottom in gay prison porn.

When we recessed for the night, I just couldn't help myself. As Mark and I walked back to our respective offices, I sang at him in my horrid, off pitch tune.

"But she caught him in the flowers." I danced a little jig.  
>"It wasn't him," he responded in a deep, gravelly voice.<p>

"Saw him bangin' on his penis." I made a soda can shaking motion.

"It wasn't him." He shook his finger left to right.

"Left his DNA in the front yard." I bounced my shoulders like a rapper would.

"It wasn't him." He waggled his hips.

"Got four priors for the same thing."

"It wasn't him."

"Then who was it?" I asked in my normal tone.

"I've talked to my client about this, Dana, and one of us thinks there are millions of vampires with 4 inch penises that share the same DNA and have four prior convictions for the exact same offense with the exact same MO."

"One inch for each prior?" I asked sweetly. "Will he grow another inch after this conviction?"

"He's not Pinocchio."

"Pinocchio had more wood than he does," I snickered.

#

The human led Eric and Pam up the elevator to the highest floor and down the hall. He stopped in front of the Mer de Lune Suite, unlocked the door, and bowed them in. When the pair entered, the retinue from Oklahoma greeted them with nods and silently filed out the door. Pam grinned at Eric and jerked her head at the half open bedroom door. When they went in, they found Queen Freyda reclined on the bed, wearing nothing but a sheer white negligee.

Pam and Eric looked at each other. "Get out," they said simultaneously. Eric raised an eyebrow. Pam had _never_ been openly disrespectful before. She was the subtle type.

"Please?" she added. His child never begged for anything. She was too proud.

"Hon vill ha mig mer." She wants me more.

Pam sighed heavily. After a final leer at Freyda, she left.

"So lovely," said the queen. Her gaze lingered on the door as if Pam would come back. "You do not lie with each other anymore?"

"She is strictly my child."

"Shame. I suppose I will have to have you separately." She shook her head, as if this were a great concession on her part.

Eric tightened his jaw. He was willing to take one for the team, but did not want to subject his child to the perversity of lying with another vampire. Two vampires, not maker-child, nor married, nor longtime lovers, having sex, it was highly frowned upon. The blood exchange that almost inevitably occurred in the height of passion gave them too much control over each other. It was almost as degrading as fucking a werewolf. Pam was too young and horny to care that the blood was to be used only for procreation, bonding, and healing.

"My maker and I stayed lovers long after he released me," Freyda said conversationally.

The sheriff nodded. That wasn't uncommon. Preserving a lover was the second most common motive behind vampire procreation. A few maker-progeny pairs never had sex, most did it just for the bonding, and some just couldn't stop doing it.

"Then he discovered men." The queen flopped on her back, dropping all attempts at seduction. "Have you ever slept with human men or a male vampire under 200? It's a pathetic excuse for sex. It's like humping a dog. I'd rather have a vampire female." She shuddered.

"But the male vampires that are mature and experienced enough, they're such prudes. '_The blood is sacred_,'" she mimicked in a deep voice. "It's hard enough to squeeze a one night stand out of them, and it's even harder to find one who'd not rather be fucking your dildo."

In a flash, Eric was kneeling next to the bed, stroking Freyda's inner thigh. "You would never need a dildo with me," he growled.

"Name your price, Mr. Northman," she whimpered. Her back arched as he roughly cupped the growing wetness between her legs. "Given your age, I know you must be a traditionalist. As am I, actually."

He whispered his demands into her ear, flicking her nub harder with each one.

She smiled knowingly and shifted to stare straight into his eyes. "In exchange for that, I will also need Sookie Stackhouse."

AN:

Honestly, how did you feel about this chapter? Was the middle too boring? If Eric or Pam is not in a scene, does that make you bored? I sure feel that way about True Blood. Is Dana interesting enough to stand on her own?

Natalie Dormer should have been cast as Sookie. Anna ALWAYS ruins the great emotional scenes by coming off as rude, annoying and whiny! Some actresses just aren't good with their delivery, UGH.

I like King Bill SO much better when he's not pining over Sookeh. I can see the Billric bromance getting old REALLY fast. I miss bad ass Eric mockingly bowing at His Majesty. Eric's tongue does not belong up Bill's ass. It has better places to be.

1 Quoted from season 2 blueray


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter is rated R. Adults only.**

"What is the American Vampire League doing about deadbeat makers?" asked Oprah.

"First of all, this problem has been blown out of proportion," Nan insisted smoothly. The spokesperson was conservatively dressed in a pale gray skirt suit and sensible pumps. To look at her, one would have never known that she had fed on a stripper named Candy on the limo ride to the studio. "This growing 'epidemic' of orphaned vampires is actually due to an increasing number of vampires being trapped and drained for their blood. As for such orphans, we have a fund that all vampires must pay into when they decide to procreate. There are also numerous vampires in every community that are willing to take in new vampires that have lost their parents."

Oprah took that opportunity to look solemn and look straight into the camera. "I am imploring the American public to remember that whenever you or someone drains a vampire or takes V, you're contributing to a greater problem. That blood may have come from a vampire that had a young child that needs its maker to survive for the first few years."

Nan looked especially grave when she saw that the camera was on her.

Then Oprah switched back to inquisitive mode. She wasn't going to let her guest off the hook that easily. "What of Fay Harrison?" she pressed. "Was her maker a deadbeat or a victim to draining? Either way, she was 15 years old when she was turned, was she not?"

Flanagan's expression just grew grimmer. "Upon extensive investigation in conjunction with the FBI, we have found that this young girl was not a vampire at all, but a mentally ill runaway who was convinced that she was a vampire. Fortunately, she has been safely returned to her parents."

Oprah nodded and the studio audience mirrored her every reaction. Humans. They were stupid enough to believe anything.

Nan sat up taller. "But know this, Oprah. If there is any vampire that does not care for his or her own new child or turns a human forcibly, that vampire will forever be a pariah to us. Before the Great Reveal, such a vampire would not have lasted before the next sunrise. Of course, in today's world, that vampire would be turned over to the police so that he or she may be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." That was a half truth. Vampires always tried to avoid involving humans in their affairs, especially law enforcement.

"Do you have any children of your own?" inquired the hostess.

Good. A turn to more personal questions, an opportunity to humanize vampires. Nan smiled a little self consciously. "There were times when I thought of putting my career on hold and becoming a maker," she admitted. "But having a child is such a sacred trust, the bond between maker and progeny is one that lasts forever, I'd first have to find someone worthy and desirable enough to give the gift of eternal life. Turning a human is not a decision that any vampire makes lightly. It is not comparable to human attitudes towards human procreation. I hate to say that we're an exclusive group, but that's always the way it's been."

Oprah and her fans nodded more eagerly than ever. Assuage human fears about vampire overpopulation, check. This interview was going very well.

#

"Must I explain myself?" Freyda stretched lazily and curled up in the bed. "All I want is sunshine and love. Miss Stackhouse will provide the first, you will provide the second. You _will_ grow fond of me," she said confidently when she saw the look on Eric's face. "And besides, if you want to kill off my only hope of day walking, then I need something remotely equivalent."

"Sookie Stackhouse's blood only works for small amounts at a time. A few minutes at most."

"Better than nothing. Plus I've always wanted my own telepath. Dallas has one." She crossed her arms as if this were disgustingly unfair.

Eric swore silently. Oklahoma had really good spies. He made a mental note to bolster his counterintelligence.

"You cannot have Sookie Stackhouse," he said firmly.

Freyda's eyes flashed. "Then you will return Urukagina Lugalanda to me. Or there will be war, not only against Oklahoma, but all of my allies."

"You can have Urakagina. But you may not permit him to keep creating new vampires." _Or go near my progeny. _He shuddered as he thought of the ghostly hand that had reached for Pam.

The queen laughed. "Haven't figured it out yet, have you. The children _are_ the key ingredient to day walking. Without them, Urakagina is worthless."

Eric was disgusted. The woman was clearly deranged. Various myths about daywalking possibilities had been debunked a long time ago. One such myth swore that drinking the blood of an old vampire who had over 1000 grandchildren could allow one to be in the sun without burning. Presumably, Urakagina was the oldest vampire in the world, if he could even be considered one. Surely he already had the requisite number of grandsire. And yet his blood did not work as a supernatural sunscreen. In her desperation, Freyda was not doing the math.

There was only one thing that was proven to protect vampires from the sun, and that was fairy blood. Given the scarcity of fairies, even the diluted amount that ran in Sookie's veins would be highly coveted by any vampire. But he could never subject her to being a slave in the Oklahoma court, drained daily and exploited for her telepathic ability.

If _King _Bill was too much of a wimp to do anything, then Eric would have to do what he did best. Wiggle out of a tight spot. Or into one, for that matter.

Eric lowered his eyes and squeezed Freyda's breast, much to her delight. "Very well then," he said smoothly. "Sookie Stackhouse you shall have."

"And you?" she gasped as he circled her nipple.

He responded by sliding his knee between her thighs. He rolled on top of her, pinning her on her back, and positioned his other knee between her legs, roughly pushing them apart.

She moaned and raised her hips. She caressed his cheek and gazed into his eyes. "It's been too long, Master," she breathed. "I have missed your touch, your discipline, your teachings."

_Master? _She was either kinky, or had a bad case of separation anxiety. He wasn't sure if she wanted him to call her a filthy whore and ravage her, or to tenderly call her his child. Probably the latter. She exhibited the tell tale signs of having been weaned too early.

He took a risk. "My progeny," he murmured right back, hoping she wouldn't slap him and call him a sick pervert, or worse.

He had guessed right. She grabbed his face and kissed him desperately.

He ground into her growing wetness. If he wished, he could tear her flimsy lace underwear with a single thrust. After he got rid of his pants, of course. He didn't want to subject his penis to tearing denim, although he could if he wanted to. He was Eric Northman. His penis could wreck anything.

Freyda grabbed his belt and fumbled with it. She unzipped his pants and pushed them off by sliding her thighs and feet down either side of his legs. She tore open his silk boxers, narrowly missing Eric's Southman in the process.

Eric was rigid, he was ready, and despite the perversity of two vampires having sex, sex with a vampire was so much better than with a fragile human.

And so, he growled with part frustration and part disgust and plunged into her. She threw her head back and screamed, grabbing at his ass. He panted, deep inside of her, savoring her hot, tight, wetness. Hot for a vampire, at least. Lukewarm by human standards. Then he pulled out and rammed into her. Out and in. Over and over again. Freyda thrashed, squirmed, and she cried out loud. He just fucked her harder, making his balls slap against her butt, her slickness making a sort of squishy sound. Both of their fangs were out. He penetrated her with the force and speed that only an ancient vampire could achieve. Her breasts vibrated with the impact. She moaned and hollered incoherently. She panted as if sobbing but no tears came to her eyes. All of her fluids were elsewhere. Eric grunted with the effort. He had not fucked anyone like this since… well, a very long time ago when he was young and experimenting. Her lips encased his length as he slid up and down, forcing her vaginal walls apart with each thrust.

With a growl, he pushed her legs over his shoulders and pounded her harder. Faster. Deeper. Freyda's back arched violently and she scratched his back, her mouth frozen in an O, gasping and uttering with the ferocity of a feral cat. Eric groaned with equal desperation. He was close, as was she. Her slick little cunt kept contracting on his girth, soon she would be milking him dry. He would bite her, he would drink her, and he would flood her with his fluids.

With a mighty lunge that earned him an ever louder wail, he gripped a wooden bedpost and broke it off. He jammed his lips against Freyda's parted ones and shoved his tongue into her mouth. She responded in kind, and Eric carefully put the makeshift stake on the bedstand next to him as he pummeled her so fast that they would both appear a blur to human eyes.

Should he kill her now, or during the adrenaline rush of orgasm? It was so cliché to kill one's victim during orgasm. If he killed her now, then he'd find himself pounding his stiff penis into bloody goo. Better to wait. But once he did kill her, how was he going to explain it? Surely there were bodyguards outside. He couldn't just stroll out, all smug from post coitus and covered in queen. The Oklahomans would surely retaliate, if not by official war, then by going after Pam. Was he really going to kill a powerful vampire queen just to protect a human?

Crap, he couldn't think like this. Not while on the verge of spilling himself. He had never been with an older woman before. It was so thrilling to finally fuck someone who outranked him, to make her scream and writhe and shout his name.

Just as he was about to find a long sought release, Freyda cried out and threw him off. Eric landed unceremoniously on the floor, his swollen penis throbbing in protest. He craned his neck and looked up at the bed, but the queen made no show of joining him on the floor. Rather, she was a whir at her closet, pulling out clothes.

Almost instantly, there was another vampire at the door of the bedroom. Freyda dropped to her knees, and Eric jumped to his feet. Ready to fight.

"My child," said the newcomer. "It been too long." He spoke with a strong foreign accent.

"Master!" the queen wept and crawled to his feet. Her maker gently patted her hair and spoke soothingly in Spanish.

Eric was actually impressed, and maybe a little jealous. Pam would never weep at his feet. At the most she might nod deeply at him, maybe on a good day.

"I did not think you would come," Freyda continued. "Francisco, you are too good to me."

Francisco said some more comforting words in Spanish, then looked at Eric appraisingly. Everyone wanted a piece of him. The sheriff stretched languidly, demonstrating what a real man looked like. Eric was extremely selective about men, but that didn't mean men couldn't enjoy him. Preferably from a distance.

"Lovely," said the Spaniard, his eyes glued on Eric.

The Viking smirked. He didn't care who the compliments came from.

"I am Francisco de le Cortezio y Ayalla Dato Iradier," he bowed. "_Gobernador_ of Aragon, of Spain."

Eric bowed back. "Eric Northman. Sheriff of Area 5, Louisiana."

"I am so sorry for interrupting," the governor said hoarsely. "You fuck like rabid stallion in heat. Never have I seen such skill in 1800 years."

Eric's ego swelled, although another part of him deflated from neglect.

Francisco noticed, and his eyes widened with horror. "Please continue," he said hastily. He pulled up a chair in front of the bed and settled in. "You do not object do you?"

"Of course not," Eric replied graciously. His manhood could handle anything, even the prying big eyes of a big male vampire with a big bulge in his pants and his big fangs out.

"For you Master," Freyda whispered. She blew him a kiss and crawled onto the bed, but stayed on all fours, so that her maker could see her face. Ugh. This meant Eric would also have to face the unwanted visitor. That wouldn't help his erection. And how was he supposed to kill Freyda now? He couldn't fight them both off, and they were both older and more powerful than him.

As he positioned himself behind the quivering she-who-would-not-be-killed, he thought of Sookie. Pretend it's Sookie watching, he told himself. Francisco licked his lips. A giant, toast colored, bearded Sookie. Or Dana. She was one who could use a good pounding. She kept her feistiness so closeted. He ran his hand down Freyda's neck, back, and hip. It reminded him of Dana's pale, creamy skin. Sookie was more tan.

He slowly rubbed himself up and down Freyda's swollen lips. She gave a soft moan. Francisco leaned forward with his mouth hanging open. Then Eric rammed into her without warning. She made a sound, deep from her throat and gripped the sheets. He thrusted without abandon, determined to get his due this time. She lowered her head and breasts into the bed and raised her hips to meet his. He groaned, and gripped either side of her ass. Freyda kept screaming into the sheets, cursing and begging him to fuck her faster. He complied, making her shriek louder and try to twist away. He held her close and pounded her mercilessly. He felt her fluids running down her thighs, coating his testicles. The liquids splattered them both as his flesh kept smacking against hers.

Just as Eric was about to orgasm (again), Francisco leaped to his feet, clapping and weeping. "Such godly beauty!" he cried. "I am blessed to have such sight before my eyes. This…" he swayed and sank into his chair.

_Shut up,_ thought Eric. He struggled to get his excitement back. He had almost been there… and then he was there again. As he began to pummel faster, Francisco suddenly grabbed his shoulder and yanked him off, sending him flying across the room. Eric thudded to the floor (again) and watched with resignation as the older vampire entered his progeny. The Viking swore as maker and child climaxed together, while he, who had done all the work, had no one to relieve him. The pair uttered a final cry together and collapsed into each other.

_Fuck,_ Eric fumed. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Where else could he find an ancient, willing, and _attractive _female vampire at this hour? He could probably seduce a younger one, but they just didn't have the same stamina or aggression. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He had nothing to show for his effort. No assassination, no orgasm. This was turning out to be a miserable night. And he had promised Sookie to her…

When dawn came soon after, he took up the offer to share the bed. Why the hell not. He lied there, sandwiched between Freyda and Francisco. Between a rock and a hard place. Stuck with a hard on.


	11. Chapter 11

Nineteen year old Tina L., aka Baby, was covered in bite marks that were visible from across the conference room table. Some of them were red and rashy. According to her file, she had HPV. Judging by the crusty sores around her lips, she might also have herpes. She had her first miscarriage when she was fifteen, because she had no money for food so she just didn't eat. Her then pimp didn't take good care of her. She liked her now pimp better because he didn't beat her. As she had mentioned in a prior interview, he couldn't even get her pregnant.

Tina took in her surroundings with bleary eyes and ran a tentative finger over the glossy wood of the oval table. "Dis is real fancy," she said. "I never seen nuthin like it." I had to strain to understand a word she said. She mumbled and didn't articulate very well.

I smiled without mirth. "I'm glad you like it. Do you know why you're here today?"

She shrugged and fiddled with the platinum half of her hair. The other half, the bottom layer, was dark brown. She had an inch of dirty blond roots growing out. Her eyes darted here and there and never once met mine.

"I just want to clarify some things you told the police officer last month when you got rescued. What can you tell me about your Daddy?"

"I love him," the girl stressed. Her eyes, the left one drooped slightly, went from the clock to a chair to her fingernails "He took good care of me. He was gonna get me out of that place once we made enough money to run away together."

That's what they always said. _Baby, you gotta turn more tricks so we can put food on the table. Honey, you gotta strut this track tonight if you wanna put gas in this car. Sugar, you better work your keep or I'm gonna have to leave you for a better ho'… _Pimps. They were all the same.

"You said he can't get you pregnant. Why is that?"

She actually glowed with pride. "He a _vampire._"

Ugh. The only thing worse than a pimp was an immortal pimp. While some vampires found it profitable to run bars, strip clubs, and bodyguard services, others preferred the black market.

"Why do you call him Daddy?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. He "took care" of her, unlike the real daddy she had never had. It disgusted me how pimps used such a precious term of endearment to manipulate girls who would do anything for what they thought was love, affection, and acceptance.

She shrugged. "I called my last old man Pappy, and the one before that Pops, so I needed sumtin new."

"Whose idea was it for you to work at the massage parlor?" It was more of a slave house. All the girls slept on the floor, they were half starved, and they weren't allowed to leave the building.

"Daddy din want me working in the street no more," she sniffled. "He said dis way, at least der be a roof over my head."

Suuure. "House ho's" made much more money than "streetwalkers". "Were any of the girls you worked with turned into vampires?"

She scowled with jealousy. "Jus' a couple of us. Dey weren't deservin' of it or nuthin'. Once I made enough dough, Daddy was suppose to turn me so we could be together forever."

More like he'd drain her to death. I caught the eye of the detective on this case, Allen, and nodded. He took over.

"How did you start working the streets?" he asked.

"My boyfriend at the time. He was freaky you know, he liked me so much I was too good to keep for himself. So he'd lend me to his buddies you know, I din' really like that at first but he'd get all mad if I din do it, so I just did it. Den he got me to blow' tricks here and there for fifty a pop, cus he wanted to go to college and get himself educated so we could have smart babies an' all. Den it wasn't so hard to spread for Benjie Franklin's, at least I wouldn't have to taste or swallow nuthin'. Course it hurt a lot more, but I got used to it. Den he got himself another ho', I ran away and he beat me bad, but he got shot in some fight or sumtin."

"When did you first start getting into vampires?"

Tina thought for a moment. "I always been into them. I read _Breaking Dawn_ over and over. My sister lent me her copy. When vampires said demselves were real, all da ho's on the street were, 'We gotta get ourselves new vamp daddies, we gotta ditch our lame ass old men and get some new ones dat can protect us for reals.'"

"Were the tricks at the parlor human or vampire?"

"Most of dem was warm bloods. We'd get some vampers, but dey'd mainly come for blood. The adrenlin from the fear makes it taste better, or sumtin." She absently raised a hand to her neck. "Sometimes dey'd wanna get it on widda vamper ho's, cus vampers can do it more freaky. Lotsa da warm tricks would go for the vamper ho's, too."

I made a note of this. So the demand for vampire prostitutes was on the rise. Their maker/pimps would have complete control over them, more than any human pimp could ever exert.

She looked down. "If Daddy had turned me when I asked him to, I coulda been making a lotta Franklins by now. We coulda been far away from here already. I do my tricks good, but der's no way I can get as freaky as dem vamper ho's. Dey can move so fast, dey like vibrators or sumtin. Da tricks like dat. And some come just to get fresh V, straight from the vamp."

So it was true, vampire sex was just as incredible as rumored. And fresh V was supposed to be much more potent. I pulled out a photo of Eric Northman and slid it across the table. "Have you ever seen him?"

She gave it a cursory glance. "Nah. No good lookin men like dat need to hang wid ho's."

Indeed. In my experience, the good looking ones usually turned out to be the rapists rather than the john's. The former wanted to exert dominance, the latter wanted easy sex.

"You have a tattoo on your lower back that says, "M.T.S.?"

"Ya."

"What does that stand for?" Her pimp's initials, obviously. I needed her to admit to it.

"Dats me Daddy."

"What does the M.T.S. stand for?"

She stared at the table silently.

I tried to ask her some more questions, but she shrugged, hunched her back, and gnawed at her chipped pink polish.

Like most girls who made their living in the streets with "Daddies" watching over them, she was more broken than any sexual assault victim I had encountered.

At least the interview had been a partial success. Allen showed her out, I stayed in the conference room to collect my notes. Then I reached for the remote and turned the TV on. I was so sick of vampires. Hopefully Friends was on or something. It wasn't. I groaned. I tried changing channels, then gave up and settled on the only news station that wasn't talking about some cute little girl that went missing or a hurricane wreaking havoc on civilization.

"_Where am I supposed to feed him!" _snapped the harried looking vampire woman on TV. "_Even if I _can_ find a gender neutral bathroom, it stinks in there. Look at him! He's hungry! And he's losing all this blood!" _

A human reporter crouched and pushed his mic in front of the other vampire, a full grown man who was sitting on the ground with his legs spread out and bawling tears of blood.

"_Any comment, Sir_?" asked the reporter. "_Is there any reason you can't just drink Tru Blood?"_

The baby vampire just bawled harder and shook his legs in his tantrum. Then he paused to look at the reporter and bared his fangs with a not so nice smile. The human straightened quickly and stepped away.

"_He can't drink it cold_!" snarled the maker. "_And why should he have to drink that stuff when he can drink from me? A baby vampire is always hungry, he shouldn't have to wait to find a microwave or a private place." _

The camera cut to a short, muscular male vampire who was carrying a taller, even more muscular male vampire on his back as easily as one would a rag doll. Steroidosaurus was greedily sucking from Mini Steroidosaurus' neck.

"_I'm not exposing any flesh,"_ Mini said calmly. "_We're not being obscene. And even if it is bad for human children to see this, what kind of human child is out at 2 am? Feeding your infant progeny promotes bonding. It provides supplemental nutrition. It's a beautiful thing. I should be able to do this in public without being harassed or asked to leave. It's not illegal." _

The camera focused on the reporter. "_As you can see, there is growing frustration towards attitudes about baby vampires feeding on their makers in public. Although the law prohibits vampires from feeding on humans in public, there is no such restriction on feeding on other vampires. However, makers are often harassed for letting their progeny drink from them. New makers are organizing a national Feed In at various department stores that cater to vampires but do not permit them to use their dressing rooms for feeding their infant progeny…"_

Wah wah wah. I turned the TV off. I had bigger things to worry about than where hungry baby vampires could eat. Honestly, I'd rather have them getting plenty to eat than going hungry. What was wrong with people?

#

When I came into my office, I stared for a moment, and slid to the floor. Sitting at my desk, doodling on paper, was someone I had pushed aside from my conscience, given up for dead.

"Hi Dana," Fay said shyly.

"Ohhhhh." My legs went slack(er). She was back from the dead. I didn't like ghosts. Ghosts freaked me out. I didn't believe in them, but they still scared me. I could barely watch shows like the Ghost Whisperer. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, those were just fine. But incorporeal things were spooky. And aliens. Didn't believe in those either, but they scared me anyway. I didn't like the idea of those anal probes.

"Are you… not happy to see me?" My surprise visitor seemed wounded.

Don't piss off the ghost. Or shit, maybe she wasn't dead after all. Well she _was_, but she wasn't—hadn't met the true death.

"I thought you were…" I searched for the politically correct term.

"I drew you a picture," she beamed. She picked up what she had been drawing, skipped over, and showed it to me.

"It's lovely," I smiled weakly. It was a picture of a little girl, a woman, and a man. Perfectly normal family. Only the man was lying in the spiky grass, with what was unmistakably a stake in his heart and fangs coming out his mouth. His eyes were depicted by X's. His sleeveless shirt and pants were colored in by the black pen. His hair was drawn with yellow highlighter. The sun, also highlighter, was shining in the sky. The woman and the girl's skirts were triangles, the kind you see on stick figures. The woman's v neck shirt had two sideways triangles on either side of the neckline, sort of like lapels. Oh my gosh. It was me, her, and Eric. At least I wasn't the one lying in the grass with a stake in my heart.

I wasn't very familiar with the progression of a child's drawing ability, and maybe Fay just wasn't a great artist, but her picture distinctly looked like a much younger child had made it with painstaking effort.

"Are you going to put it on your fridge?" she asked anxiously. "That's what everyone else's parents do, right?"

"Of course," I lied. There was no way in hell that thing was going on my fridge. Or maybe it could, after some creative Wite Outing.

She clapped her hands gleefully and I had to turn away. Normal fifteen year old girls cared about shopping and boys and fought with their dads about whether they could wear that outfit. They started fussing about diets for the first time, they didn't drink blood. They didn't draw decorations for the refrigerator.

I looked out the window and realized that it was barely twilight. "How did you get here?" I demanded. "The sun is still up." Barely, but still.

"I saw the sun," she said, her eyes wide and glazed over. "I saw the sun, and it hurt, but I did not die."

"Ahhhh." So the American Vampire League's claim that she was just a mentally ill kid playing vampire was true? I had thought it was a bullshit cover up. But that didn't explain how her fangs seemed to extend and retract at will. Maybe they were fake? There were some very realistic ones on the market. You could even get them custom made, with hidden buttons that you pushed with your tongue to make the "fangs" go in and out.

Eric, Bill, and Pam had not denounced her as a fake, so she was probably was the real thing. With a little extra. This was too much for me to handle alone.

I picked myself off the floor and walked over to the desk. I fumbled around, looking for Bill's business card. Or maybe I should call Eric, or maybe not. None of them would be up until the sun was down completely anyway. And I didn't want anyone to see Fay, in case they recognized her from TV and made a big fuss.

I went next door to Luke's office, where I knew he kept some True Bloods in his mini fridge, heated one up, and offered it to Fay. I wanted her to be well fed. I remembered that baby vampires were always hungry. I could relate, just not with the blood part.

I shut the door to my office and sat behind my desk. Fay settled into a chair across from me, her feet dangling off the ground. It would have been cute if I had not known that her feet would always dangle like that. She'd never grow up, never develop the curves to attract any normal adult. She was shockingly underdeveloped for her age, or maybe she was naturally flat chested. I hoped it wasn't malnutrition that made her appear to be closer to 12 years old.

Vampires seemed to have such a high sex drive. Would she forever be doomed to satisfy her lust on pedophiles? Maybe other vampires wouldn't care how old she looked.

"How have you been?" I asked, less out of curiosity and more out of a desire to fill the silence. It was unnerving to see her spaced out and sipping a bottle that read TRUE BLOOD: the drink of life. At least it wasn't my blood.

"The men in blue took me away." I presumed she was referring to the police. "Then the men in black took me away." I hoped she wasn't referring to the commandos that guarded Bill's house. "Then I escaped, and it was so close to dawn, and I could have buried myself in the dirt like Eric had taught me, but instead I decided to stay and watch the sun rise."

And somehow it had not killed her.

"Then the men in black came and got me, and sent me back to Texas with my parents."

She rocked in an agitated way that made me scared to ask what happened next.

"The blood is sacred. It is to only be used for procreation, bonding, or healing. It is not to be shared," she recited. She closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears as if shutting something out.

When she talked like that, she sounded like a medieval Pope, lecturing men about the evils of masturbation and wasting seed. It would have been amusing if she weren't so upset. And her fangs were out. I shuddered at the memory.

I twisted around and saw that it was finally dark out. I picked up the phone. In a flash, she standing right in front of my desk with her hand clamped over mine. I winced.

"Don't! Not Eric!" she screamed. "He promised! He broke his promise!"

I hoped none of my coworkers were around to discover her. Vampire Luke should be coming in soon, unless he was going to go straight to the courtroom tonight.

I shushed and tried to comfort her.

"He said he'd come," she cried, but more quietly. "I thought I would never escape. They took my blood, they drank it, it made them happy. It was the only thing that ever made them happy."

"Who did?"

"Mom and Dad. He's not my real dad, but he makes me call him that or he gets mad. I never get to see my real dad, but he came by to have some of my blood. So I didn't mind at first, but he started getting mean like fake Dad does."

I hugged her more tightly. I didn't even care that she was crying tears of blood on my split neck dress, which came with a matching jacket with black piping.

#

Francisco was undressing Eric with his eyes. Freyda was gazing at Francisco like a lovestruck teenager. Eric was glaring at Bill. Bill was glaring back. Nan was glowering at them all. The group had managed to squeeze itself into Bill's office with minimal bickering. And now there was just a tense silence.

"Sheriff Northman superseded the bounds of his authority by offering you Sookie Stackhouse in return for Urukagina Lugalanda," Bill said finally. He looked steadily at Freyda, who strayed a glance from her maker.

"Louisiana committed an act of war by taking one of my subjects prisoner," she responded coolly.

"Oklahoma violated numerous human and vampire laws by allowing said subject to make and discard many vampire children," Eric pointed out. "Might I also mention that your _subject_ was already in this state when he was captured."

"Easy solution. We all have sex, yes? You must join, my friend." Francisco smiled generously at Bill.

"Oh fuck this," exclaimed Nan. "Fuck you all. Just make the goddamn exchange. The vampire freak in exchange for the human freak. Then go back to your kingdoms and never let anything like this happen again."

Bill and Eric stiffened noticeably. "It is of great advantage to Louisiana to have a telepath," Bill started cautiously. "Miss Stackhouse should not be turned over to another state, she is a valuable resource."

"And transporting an unwilling human across state lines so that she may be used by vampires will be detrimental to the mainstreaming effort," Eric added smoothly. "Not to mention a federal offense."

"No one will find out," Nan said through grit teeth. "She's just a waitress in a small town. No one will care if she packs all her things and disappears. We can even make up a rumor. She got pregnant, and she moved to a big city so she wouldn't have to deal with the shame of being a single mother in this redneck swamp."

The phone rang. Bill snatched it up as if the caller would bear good news. His face fell. "Thank you," he said. "Just stay there, I'll have someone get her."

Everyone in the room had been able to pick up the entire conversation because of the super sensitive hearing that was typical of their kind.

Nan's face took on a pink tinge that was virtually never seen on the undead. "I thought I told you to take care of Fay Harrison."

"I did." Bill wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I meant destroy her and glamour her human parents into believing she went home with them before losing her to a freak accident. I could not have made myself more clear."

Bill stayed stubbornly silent.

Nan redirected her rage at Freyda. "This is what your precious _subject_ has done. If you weren't so popular with the humans in your state, I'd have you executed like I did with Sophie-Ann." Bill's predecessor.

Francisco bared his fangs but Freyda was undaunted. "Just glamour the human that has found Fay," she shrugged.

"Of all the humans to get involved in this mess, she is part of the .001% of the human population that cannot be glamoured." Anecdotal evidence attested to this figure. Nan looked like she wanted to stake everyone in the room.

"Then turn her or kill her."

"Dana Marsh is a high profile human whose disappearance or turning would arouse more suspicion than you can imagine."

True. But Eric could not allow Sookie to fall into Oklahoma's clutches. Perhaps there was another way… He had not missed that gleam in Freyda's eye when Dana was mentioned.

**AN**

OK, be brutally honest. Am I being too obvious with the social commentary? Am I beating you over the head with it in a way that takes away from the writing and the plot? Do you even know what I'm talking about?

Per some of the suggestions, I tried to tone down Dana's hectic schedule and the legal jargon. How am I doing?


	12. Chapter 12

The vampire stuck his head out into the dark hallway. If anyone else was around, he would have sensed them already. He slid into Dana Marsh's office and started going through her files. For once she wasn't in her office. But then, it was a Saturday so maybe he shouldn't be giving her too much credit.

He rummaged and rummaged. How did she ever find anything? There were piles and piles of manila folders and cardboard boxes. He pulled open a drawer and found a tab labeled "Search Warrants." Bingo. After flipping through the first 4 files in that slot, he found one labeled "Northman". There was a CD-Rom inside the file. It was labeled "Fangtasia-Confidential informant". He pulled it out and put it into his laptop.

He hit play, and the video showed two people in an interrogation room. The camera angle was clearly focused on the person being questioned. He turned up the audio:

"_How's the new job going_?" asked Detective Ethan Waynridge.

"_Good_," replied Cindy Cho, aka Jade Flower, aka Consort Zhen the Pearl Concubine. She was glowing with pleasure. "_The tourists love me. Eric is thinking about getting a Persian looking vampire to pose as a real life Scheherazade, and an Egyptian for Nefertiti..._"

"_As fascinated as I am by our mutual friend's shameless exploitation of culture and history, I am more interested in his illegal money making activities. What have you learned so far?_"

"_Not much_," came the sheepish reply. "_They keep me pretty busy. I don't think he's involved in any of that stuff you're thinking though_."

"_Let me remind you that young women are being turned, most of them against their will. Then they're used for V, sex, and turning humans that are willing to pay to become vampires. We need to find out who's running this."_

_ "Ya, but all those girls are whores anyway. They're better off as vampires than on the streets."_

Even the back of Ethan's head, it was all that the camera showed of him, glowered. "_I am sorry that you have such little regard for human life,_" he spat. "_Let me also remind you that if it weren't for your _diligent_ cooperation in this investigation, you'd be sitting in state prison right now_."

"_All I did was pay some vamp hooker to turn me_!" cried Cindy. "_Everyone is doing it these days_."

"_Then I should have no trouble replacing you with someone else_." Ethan stood to leave, and Cindy squawked with protest.

"_Wait_!" she cried. "_I haven't seen anything related to whoring out girls, but I think he keeps prisoners in that basement of his. Mostly Drainers and vamp killers. They come and go, I don't know what he does with them. That's all I know, I swear._"

Ethan paused for a split second. "_Thank you_," he replied. "_That will be all_." He left the room without a second glance.

With that, the footage ended. Perfect. The vampire began to burn a copy of the video. Sheriff Northman would be very interested in its contents.

#

Eric floated up to Dana's second story bedroom window. He peeked in, and saw that she was in front of her computer, churning away at the keyboard. Her delicate fingers typed at an astonishing speed for a human. She was biting her lip in concentration, and her limpid eyes were focused on the screen.

Pam had also been a writer. Coincidentally, her bedroom had also been on the second floor. Before he chose to turn her, he had spied on her for many nights, watching her vent away in that silly little diary of hers. As a human, his child had been in dire need of an escape from her repressive life. In contrast, Dana seemed perfectly happy with her life as it was. Of course, she didn't know what she was missing. Or how many vampires were tempted to claim her.

She glanced at the window, then gasped and jumped out of her chair. "How?" She took a closer look and saw that he was floating. "It's Saturday," she told him. "Catch me on a weekday at my office."

"It's Fay," he lied. "She won't eat and she wants to see you."

Dana raised an eyebrow. "Am I to be the meal then?"

"That was rude."

Some stupid human outside yelped something like "It's a ghost!" Then someone else said, "No, he's hanging from the window! We gotta get him a ladder!" They were talking about Eric, who gave Dana an innocent, "_What, me_?" look.

She removed the screen and he floated in head first, face up. He bumped his feet on the sill on his way in. He had big feet. She watched, fascinated.

Out of sheer nosiness, Eric peered at her computer screen and read aloud. "_The victim in this case is not a sympathetic one. Mickey Sadine was possessive and manipulative. The sex was too rough. He wouldn't let the defendant hang out with her friends. The defendant was scared of Mickey, because he was a vampire and he was stronger. She was convinced that he would kill her some day. Thus the defendant waited until he fell asleep one day, and staked him. All because he wasn't the ideal boyfriend. _

"_The defendant didn't kill Mickey in the heat of passion, in the midst of self defense. He had never hit her. He had never threatened her. He had never held her prisoner. The defendant merely feared that some day, he would kill her first. The law does not permit such preemptive strikes. This is premeditated murder."_

He laughed. "Are you serious?" He knew of this Mickey character. He was a rogue that should have been eliminated a long time ago, and Eric found it ironic that Mickey had ended up the "victim."

Dana glared. "It's just a first draft," she said defensively.

"Humans," he smirked. "If you keep Fay waiting too long, and she dies of starvation, would that be premeditated murder?"

"No, because I have no legal obligation to keep her alive in the first place and even if I did have such a duty, that would at most be involuntary manslaughter, unless maybe I knew for a fact she would die…"

He cut her off by covering her mouth. She looked a little put off.

Her skin was soft and smooth. Was this why Pam made such a big fuss about her? Or was it the nerdy look? Pam loved nerds. "Be quiet, I'm thinking," he purred suggestively. He raked his eyes over her.

Dana's eyes grew wide. He liked it. Her sexual frustration was pent up like air in a bottle of that fizzy stuff that humans drank on fancy occasions. Human Pam had been like that too. Then Eric turned her, her world split apart, as did her legs. The sex had been beyond imagination. Hmm. Eric wanted to be the one to pop Dana's cork and savor the first sip.

Her lips parted in shock as he lazily stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

The initial frenzy of maker-progeny sex, the affection that solidified an eternal bond of loyalty and devotion, was so euphoric it was addicting. However, the best part was looking at your grown child with pride. Being a good maker was very rewarding. Of course it came with a price. He thought of baby Pam and shuddered.

"You could do better," he said ambiguously. He could just do it now, and get it over with. Forget about his other engagement for the night. Or he could summon Pam and have her do it. His progeny was impatient and lazy, but loyal and fierce. She would be a great maker. It was time for her to have a child of her own, someone with talent, power, and a great sense of style. If Dana turned out to be half the brat that Pam had been, it would be poetic justice.

Eric's hand dropped from Dana's face to her shoulder, and he leaned in. She froze, like a deer in the headlights, as he brushed his lips against hers then moved to her neck. She shivered as his fangs scraped against her throat. He could feel her quickening pulse.

"Would you like to be mine?" he murmured. Or Pam's. Same difference. Hopefully she'd be willing to share. Then he could have all the fun and none of the work.

"I already have a job," Dana told him shakily.

He wasn't offering a job. He was offering something better. "We could be great together." _Forever_. She'd be so much fun. He (through Pam) would be the one to immortalize Dana's legacy.

"What-."

"_Meow_."

Dana jumped and scrambled away. _Damnit._ Or perhaps just as well. Eric didn't want to do anything he'd regret later.

"Hey Midnight!" she said. The cat strolled in, tail in the air, and made a beeline for the vampire. The feline started purring and ankle rubbing as if Eric was the one who cleaned the litter box, doled out the fishy wet food, and put out fresh water every day.

Eric picked up the cat and cuddled him, much to Dana's delight. Midnight purred harder. "Your kitty likes me," he told her, his face buried in fur. All kitties liked him.

His cell rang. He glanced at who it was, then hung up without answering. "We must go," he announced briskly.

With a heavy sigh Dana started to pack up her laptop.

"Leave it. It won't take long."

"Better not," she muttered.

#

Somehow we arrived at the Hotel Carmilla alive. Eric's driving was incredibly… it was enough to get him an automatic 5 day sentence in the county jail and 23 traffic tickets. When I slid out of his Corvette, I felt like a Pilgrim stepping onto solid land after a perilous 2 month journey on the Mayflower.

He led me into the hotel, which advertised itself as the #1 Zagat rated vampire friendly hotel in Shreveport. It sure was swanky.

"This is where you're keeping Fay?" I asked dubiously. My internal fishiness alert system was blinking yellow. When he didn't respond, it turned to orange.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

I tried to hurry away, but he steered me back with an iron grip around my waist. Normally I would not mind having anyone who looked like Eric Northman restrain me in any way, but he clearly was not playing around. I discreetly reached for my phone, but he snatched and held my purse out of my reach. So much for subtlety.

"Help!" I screamed. "I'm being kidnapped!" I tried to break free, but Eric just hoisted me over his shoulder.

The employees just smiled and nodded. One of the guests actually came up and asked for my autograph. Fucking vampires. I signed his stupid piece of paper, made it out to "Bob, a loyal fan!" Fan of what? I wasn't some Real Housewife or Judge Judy. And what kind of vampire name was Bob?

Then I squirmed, struggled, and bit my captor, but I think that just turned him on. Besides, it was like trying to beat on a boulder.

He finally put me down when we were in one of the ballrooms. A small cluster of important looking vampires were there, standing around in evening attire and clutching glasses of red liquid. I tried not to think about where that came from. There were also a few humans among them, all looking happy except for one.

It was Sookie. She glowered at Eric once she saw him. From the unhappy look on her face, one would have expected her to be in a gold bikini and a long purple loincloth but she was actually in a very elegant but very loose evening gown. I noticed that all of the human females were attired similarly, in toga like dresses that hid their figures.

Three of the vampires separated from the group and stood closer to us. They each gave Eric a deep nod.

I smoothed down my frumpy, polka dotted skirt and shuffled uneasily in my bright pink beach sandals from the Dollar Store. I crossed my arms across my moth eaten T shirt, which read, **EDWARD CULLEN SUCKS**. Someone had gotten it for me as a joke when I joined Supe Crimes.

Everyone was staring at me. _Everyone_.

"You should have told me to dress up," I hissed at Eric. Bastard.

He ignored me completely. "Let's go," he told Sookie.

She looked at me, then him. Then me again. "We can't just leave her here," she muttered under her breath.

I almost cried with gratitude. For the first time tonight, someone had actually shown some decency. Now leave and call the police for me please, I'm sure there's not much you can do to defend me. I gave her a Look, trying to beam my thoughts at her. She got the hint.

"You stay with her," she murmured at Eric. She started to leave on her own but he had one of his own minions go with her.

What a gentleman.

A hush went through the room, and I turned to see what the big fuss was about. Two vampires, one male, one female had entered, arm in arm. He had (relatively) tan skin, a full beard, and a tuxedo that would have made James Bond jealous. And I had thought all tuxes were the same. The woman was _stunning_ in a silver evening gown that was form fitting and had a classy boat neckline that scrunched up. If I liked women, I'd have a picture of her on my desktop. I felt more self conscious than ever when she looked straight at me and smiled.

"Come," she beckoned.

I backed up a few steps before Eric's arm stopped me.

Her male companion chuckled. "It is an honor to be chosen by the queen of Oklahoma," he told me. "She has never made a child in her 1300 years." Then he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. "I am so happy for you two." His voice broke.

"Oh Francisco." the queen leaned her head into his chest, he held her, and they had a Kodak moment.

At least one of us was happy.

"Chosen?" I squawked. _Child? _As in, adopted and spoiled with presents? I just needed to sign some paperwork right? I'd be fine with that.

"You will be mine forever." The queen looked like she would also burst into tears. "I will be the maker of Dana Marsh!"

That was me. Everyone started clapping while I struggled to breathe. Focus, I told myself. Find a way to get out of this.

I examined the queen. Damn it. The bitch was so much prettier than me. I'd be compared to her for an eternity. I hated her even more. I wished I were wearing my brand new sateen black 3 piece suit, or maybe my dark red halter dress with the flared skirt.

Eric gently pushed me towards her. I kept my feet rooted on the ground. So he just scooped me up and carried me to the queen. I went numb all over. So much for fight or flight. Or going with dignity. This was really sad. I thanked God no one had their phones out. I didn't want this to go on Youtube.

"For the record, I don't consent," I croaked loudly. I tried to pretend that vampires weren't snickering in response.

"Turning a human without consent is a capital offense," I tried.

More chuckling. Practical Tip #1. When pleading for your life, criminal sanctions do not scare criminals who have no regard for the law. I ignored my own tip.

"Even if you do make me, what makes you think I won't just go to the police?" I demanded.

More snickering and eye rolling.

Right. She'd have complete control over me. I once had a case where a vampire kleptomaniac used the my-maker-made-me-do-it defense. It turned out his maker was in Asia and had no knowledge of his serial shoplifting. Meanwhile I had learned a lot of interesting things about maker-progeny relationships. And I knew that I really did not want to form such a bond with someone I did not know and could not trust.

Eric set me down in front of the queen. He let me twist away from him but whenever I tried to get away, a vampire flashed in front of me, blocking my exit. Gosh, they were fast.

"Excuse me," I said politely.

No one stepped aside.

"I just need to go home and change, I'll be right back."

No reaction.

I begged Eric with my eyes. Of this group of complete strangers, this vampire, whom I had only met on a few occasions, was the closest thing I had to an ally.

He stared back with eyes that looked human, but had clearly lost any humanity a long time ago.

If I could not escape, I would have preferred to stand tall and give some magnificent speech of defiance. But I wasn't some heroine who kicked butts or faced near death experiences on a regular basis. I was born and raised in suburbia, with a capital S. Parallel parking downtown on a weekday morning was my idea of a rough time.

My job was to push papers and talk smooth. That was my life, Monday through Friday, 8-5. The only thing I had ever had to run from was a honking goose that got mad at me for trying to play with its babies.

So when the vampire queen zoomed before me with astonishing speed and held my chin, I just stood there, hoping my skirt wouldn't ride up in the spasms of my mortal death. For some reason I thought of a scene from _The Borgias_ where young Lucrezia is considering her weapons as a woman. Her beauty, her wit, her father the pope. Well, Lucrezia had the advantage of a cleavage maximizing corset and a makeup artist, while my hair was greasy and my T shirt had yogurt stains on it. Also my wits weren't working, and my father wasn't the most powerful man in Europe.

The queen pushed back my hair and tilted my head to the side. Somehow my adrenaline kicked in. I screamed, struggled, and scratched, but someone, or multiple someones, just pinned me down. I could _not_ move.

I screamed myself hoarse as she bit me, and I kept doing so until I felt too dizzy and my eyes started to close.


	13. Chapter 13

Rated R

The floor was spinning. There were dark spots dancing on the back of my eyelids. I was really, really cold. I was amazed that I was still conscious.

Suddenly, I heard an explosion, startled screams, and a "Down on the ground NOW!" Everything sounded so faint and surreal.

I heard some whizzing noises, then instantly, I felt some lukewarm, slimy glop splash all over me. Some of it got into my mouth and I gagged. A man yelled "Freyda!" and was right by my side. He was sobbing, and kept moaning about "My Freyda, my only child. I'm so sorry Freyda, I should have never let you do this."

I vaguely sensed more people come to my side.

"What took you," snapped Eric's voice. "You're too late. She's too far gone."

"Wait," said a curt female voice. "We need her to sign the consent form before you turn her."

A cool, large hand took my hand, put a pen in it, and made a squiggle against a flat surface. Then that hand moved to my face and a mouth started to drink from my wound. Soon after that, everything went pitch black and silent.

#

"_My maker won't stop calling me_!" screamed the caption across the TV. The TV audience booed as an older female vampire gestured and shouted indignantly at the crowd.

"Honestly, I wish she'd just pick up the phone," whined a younger vampire seated on one of the chairs. "I have a job, I can't just drop everything every time she wants me to show up to rehang her portraits or zip up her dress."

"Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone!" chanted the audience.

"I made him, I can call him whenever I want!" the maker shouted shrilly. The audience booed.

As Jerry Springer made half hearted attempts to settle the rowdy crowd, Pam chuckled and leaned in to reach her pinky toe with her nail polish brush. Such white trash. She paused to admire her pastel pink varnish.

"It's called technology," Jerry said in his reasonable tone. "What will you do if your progeny moves to another state? Do you expect him to fly over the second he feels your call?"

"Of course I do!" cried the maker. "I didn't teach him to fly for nothing!"

Ahhh. Flying. Pam wondered when she would acquire that talent. She could levitate, but any moron could do that. Her phone chimed elegantly. She knew who it was without checking the screen. She sighed. At least Eric used the phone when he wanted her. Usually.

#

I was so hungry. I cracked my eyes open. I stared up at a starry night sky. It was so beautiful. It was clearer and more beautiful than anything else I had ever seen in my life. I inhaled. I could smell night blossoms, the grass, and people? Cologne. A faint scent of cologne. And others. Humans and vampires. They were all standing some distance away, except for one.

Eric Northman's face hovered into view. His frigid features showed the _slightest_ hint of concern. It was barely there. My maker. My master. My everything. He made me elated. He was so immaculate, like a sculpture of white marble. He had the slightest glow to him, like an ethereal angel. I could drown in those eyes…

I shook my head, wondering if I had been drugged. Or maybe it was a part of the natural imprinting process. I wondered if this was how baby animals felt when they opened their eyes for the first time and saw Momma. Or Papa. I knew from _March of the Penguins_ that it was the fathers who hatched the eggs. I smiled and I swear I made a cooing noise.

"Where are her fangs?" demanded Papa Vamp. "They should have dropped by now."

_I don't have any_, I thought dreamily. I kept beaming (apparently fangless) at Eric like a moron.

"Try turning her over and spanking her," came a woman's droll reply.

_I wouldn't mind that. _

Instead, Eric slid a finger between my teeth and gingerly ticked the roof of my mouth. _Click. _I felt something poking at my bottom lip. My hand flew to my mouth. I had fangs! I had fangs? How would this affect my dental plan? My parents had spent a fortune on my braces so I wouldn't "look like Dracula" and now… I looked like Dracula.

"Dana," urged Papa Vamp. "You must eat. Can you sit up?"

His voice was so beautiful. It was hypnotizing. I could obey him forever. I never wanted to leave his side. I could follow him around like a baby duckling and feel no shame. Or I could cling to his back like a koala. Or better yet, he could carry me around in his pants like a kangaroo. He'd need to get bigger pants though. I eyed the outline of his crotch appreciatively.

"Is she up?" another woman demanded. She stayed out of my line of sight. She tossed a folded up paper on my chest. "You've been served." A pause. Then, "The only reason you're alive, Mr. Northman, is because things ended up _extremely_ well. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that you had planned this all out." With a whoosh, she was gone.

I ignored the pangs of hunger and looked at the paper. I could read it, even though it was dark. It was a _summons_ of all things. To come to some vampire hearing about Freyda's estate and to whom I "belonged". Incredible. Almost as incredible as my new night vision.

"Is there a McDonald's around here?" I wanted to get 20 chicken McNuggets and 5 large fries with sweet 'n sour sauce. I didn't care if it wasn't real chicken.

"We got better," said Pam. I turned to look at her. I had never seen her so sulky. Her lower lip stuck out so far an eagle could land on it. Strangely enough, she was holding pink balloons that said "It's a Girl!" She gestured at the humans standing around us. Each of them had a big pink bow around their necks. The scene would have been comical if I weren't… a _vampire. _Or was I. Maybe the humans were just there to congratulate me for having narrowly avoided the process. Maybe I was just a human with fangs. Right.

Eric leaned towards me, tilted his head to the side, and pressed my face against his neck. He smelled wonderful. "Drink," he said hoarsely.

Drink what? How was I supposed to drink anything when he was blocking my mouth? He shifted against me, and my fangs pricked his skin. I tasted his blood. Yummm. I chomped down and guzzled him like an SUV taking gas. He groaned and gasped until he pushed me away too soon.

"Enough," he said gutturally. He gestured with his head. "You must drink a little from each. I will tell you when you have had too much." He wearily took a swig from a True Blood. There was a 6 pack by his feet. He looked fatigued and whiter than usual. Must be hard work making a baby vamp. I wondered how much of his blood he had given me. I wondered if vampires had midwives to urge the expectant maker to, "_Drink! Drink more! Keep drinking!"_

A little from each bottle, I could do that. I reached for a True Blood but my darling maker shook his glorious head. "It won't meet all your nutritional needs. Take from the humans first."

Ohhhh. Gross. I felt so nauseous, like I had a horrible hangover. I could really use some fries, Coke, and a cheeseburger. Or a roast beef sandwich. I knew I had half a great deli sandwich at home, I had been saving it for later. No rule said that vampires couldn't have real food. I never saw any of them doing it, but they probably just didn't find it palatable.

I didn't think anything could keep me away from a juicy steak. Well done, of course. If my meat has any pink in it, I refuse to eat it. Thus, the thought of biting into a living human being and sucking out blood was disgusting. Eric was an exception because a) he wasn't human and b) he was hot and c) he owed me blood anyway since he had taken so much of mine. Plus his blood tasted like that amazing raspberry wine from Trader Joe's.

"Have they showered? I don't like the salty taste of skin." At least from what I could remember. My tongue had not touched human skin in a while.

"Dana…"

"Are they registered blood donors? Have they signed the consent and waiver of liability forms?"

Eric gave out a looong sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Drink." It was clearly an order.

I sat up straighter. I pulled one of the humans towards me, and without thinking, I latched onto his neck. I sucked and drank until I gagged and realized what I was doing. I shoved the human away and he landed 5 feet away from me. This was seriously disturbing. Maybe I could survive on animal blood, like those vegetarian vampires on _Twilight. _Not that I read any of that crap. But I was sooo hungry. I was thinking with my stomach, mostly. I didn't like being hungry. I liked eating. As in solid food.

My sweet maker looked decidedly relieved. With no concern for the human I had just shoved away, he beckoned another towards him, who eagerly knelt. "Neck, wrist, groin," he told me, while indicating the respective body parts. "That is where the major veins are, and that is where you should drink from when you want a steady flow. He handed me the human's wrist, and I pierced it without a second thought. I drank and I drank until Eric told me to stop. I stared at him, bewildered. Why did I stop? I still wanted more. Then I remembered that he could order me to do anything, and I'd be compelled to obey.

When he offered me someone else's groin, I (sort of) lost my appetite. I was drinking blood. From humans. And I was enjoying the taste. _And_ I was infatuated with the vampire who had given me away, then claimed me as his own, as if I were a trading card. But right now I had more pressing things to worry about. I needed food. And I wanted him. And he was so pretty. I wanted to eat him. I was so confused. Food food Eric Eric sex sex. This was bad. I had the vampire version of Stockholm syndrome.

I lied back down and turned on my side so I wouldn't have to face them anymore.

"You have _no_ idea how happy I am that you got to her first," Pam drawled to Eric. She sure didn't sound happy. "When you handed her over to Oklahoma, just like that, I would have shit myself if I could. This is Dana fucking Marsh! Now she's ours! The Oklahomans must be sooo furious."

She sounded like she was celebrating the moon landing. _Hooray! We got there before the Soviets! We're winning the Cold War!_

"Pam," said Eric.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Did I say something wrong?" She sounded genuinely bewildered.

Momentary silence. I hoped he was glaring.

I felt a pointy toed shoe nudge my back. "Why isn't she eating?" asked Ms. Tactful. "Did you fuck up the turning?"

Eric spoke sharply in some foreign language.

"Fine," came the sullen reply. A brief wind, and she was gone.

"Dana," cooed the new center of my universe. "You must drink. It's natural. It's what we do, and these humans are more than willing. The sooner you accept what you are, the better it will be. If you do not sate your hunger while you can, you may find yourself losing control. You're only a night old."

How could I refuse such a sexy voice? I drank from the proffered groin and cupped the growing stiffness through the man's boxers. This was… exciting. I was tingling all over, especially down there.

I could eat and fuck everything in the world. I blushed and pulled away when I realized I had pulled out the man's penis and was groping it, for all to see. I wiped my hand on the grass, mortified.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"For what?" Eric frowned.

"I can't stop thinking about food and sex," I told him accusingly. As if it were his fault. Which it was, since he had found fit to trade me for Sookie. Rather than being upset about his willingness to play chess with _my_ life, I was infuriated that he had feelings for someone that wasn't me. I wasn't sure why. I had never cared before. I barely even knew him. I hoped these weird hormones would wear off soon.

He looked pleased. "Good. You're perfectly healthy then." He gave me a pat on the cheek. "You're a growing baby."

"I _am_ grown up," I told him. "I have my own apartment. I am gainfully employed. I'm…"

Oh no. Did this mean I could only do night cases? Could I even keep my job? How would I meet with human witnesses if I couldn't be up during normal business hours?

"What day is it?" I demanded hoarsely.

"Tuesday."

I had missed 2 days of work. I wondered if anyone had filed a missing person report. Or maybe they just thought I was playing hooky. If the cops came to my apartment, they'd find no signs of struggle, no trace of where I had gone. Maybe my face was all over the news by now. I didn't want my family to find out the hard way.

"I emailed you in sick," he told me.

"What?"

"I emailed your work and told them you were sick."

That was one way to put it.

"I have to feed my cat. My roommate doesn't always remember to do it."

Oh great. My purse was probably back at the hotel. My wallet was in there. Along with my ID, my credit cards, a stamp card for my favorite café, at which I wouldn't be able to eat anymore…

Eric reached behind him and handed me my purse. I had never been so relieved to see it. And I was amazed that a male had been thoughtful enough to secure a woman's purse.

"Your cat is being taken care of," he reassured me. "Your roommate will remember."

"How do you know?"

"Let me show you." He turned and stared into one of the human's eyes. "What is your name?" His voice had an unmistakably hypnotic quality to it.

"George." The human looked entranced. I could feel the tendrils of power. Or whatever they were. It was like energy.

"Give me your wallet."

"Sure." George obeyed.

Eric cut off the eye contact, and gave the wallet back.

That was so cool. And so open to abuse. There needed to be laws about this, to regulate…

"You try it."

Well, why not. I stared into George's eyes. "What's your social security number?"

Clearly he was obeying out of free will. I failed miserably at my first attempt to "glamour" as Eric called it.

When it came close to dawn, my maker insisted that I "go to ground" with him, since a new vampire's first few hours are critical for bonding.

"I don't want to bond," I protested. "I want to eat a cheeseburger." And have sex. Then eat. Then repeat. With Eric, of course. My captor. Well. Technically he wasn't my captor, but I was psychologically in need of him because of his doing. Yes, that was it. Psychological captivity.

"Have some blood instead," he replied patiently.

"Why can't I have a cheeseburger?" I whined.

"Because you're a vampire, and vampires drink blood."

Fine then. I turned on my heel and tried to leave but something was stopping me.

He looked down at his hand, and I realized I was clutching it with a death grip. I didn't want to let go.

I sighed. Bonding it was.

I thought he'd make me squeeze into a coffin with him, but he had a huge king size bed in a giant condo with the tightest security I'd ever seen in a residential complex.

He wanted to help me wash up, but that was a bit much. Besides, I half suspected he would plunk me in one of those pink baby bath tubs that Pam had gotten for him. He told me that she hated babies but loved all the pastel colors. Now that there was a new baby in the family (me), she had an excuse to shop at Babies R Us.

"She's part of the family?" I wasn't sure what exactly what their relation was.

"I made her back on June 16, 1839."

When Victoria was still a young queen. So that would make Pam my sister, I supposed.

Once I got the dirt, blood, and grime off (it took a while, especially with the drain clogging), I dried myself off with a bright yellow bathrobe with a hood that had a big duck bill on it like a cap and 2 big eyes above the bill. The sleeves were rounded to resemble wings. The back poofed out to resemble a duck tail. Courtesy of Pam, obviously. I couldn't see a man buying something like this, unless he had a weird fetish—maybe Eric did, but I didn't want to think too much about it. It was cute. I liked rubber ducks. I didn't know where one could buy a duck themed bathrobe in an adult size, but I'd take it. I tied the rope around my waist.

And I had a moment of true clarity for the first time since I had woken up to Eric's beautiful face.

Shit. I was a vampire. This was bad. Why was I in his apartment? I could have him charged for Kidnapping, Conspiracy to Kidnap, Conspiracy to Turn a Human Without Consent, and Turning a Human Without Consent. Maybe even False Imprisonment. I was a crime victim. I had to get out of here. But I was still hungry. And Eric was so handsome. And tasty. And he could come in at any time.

I went to the door and locked it.

I instantly sensed Eric at the other side of the door somehow.

"Dana?" he asked uncertainly. He must have heard the door lock. I just backed away and pressed myself against the farthest wall of the bathroom. I had to keep myself away from him. Being near him, seeing him made me lose my senses.

I flinched as he tried the door knob.

"Go away," I squeaked. I didn't mean to keep him out of his own bathroom, but given the circumstances I felt it was only fair.

A pause. Then, "Can I just get my toothbrush?"

I didn't bother to answer. I had to find a way out. I had to…

Some internal sense I had never had before told me the sun was rising, then I knew no more.

#

When the baby had insisted on bathing herself, Eric had let her, albeit reluctantly. _Don't push boundaries with your new progeny,_ Dr. Lisa had lectured. There would be plenty of time for Dana to warm up to him, and delight in his washing her. A good maker always groomed his infant, as Godric had done for him, and Eric had done for Pam. It promoted good hygiene and bonding. Baby vampires often liked to roll around in dirt and got too excited about blood to care about mess.

He should have known something was wrong when Dana took too long in the shower. He should have walked in and started scrubbing her down like any good maker worth his fangs. But he hesitated. Then he heard the click of the door lock. Oh no. Her affection for him was wearing off. Any full blooded progeny would have been in his thrall completely, especially at this age. But Dana's turning had been started by another vampire. That meant, among other things, she did not share a complete maker-progeny bond with him. This could make things difficult.

He zoomed over to the shut bathroom door. "Dana?" he called.

She told him to go away. This was really bad. This would make the turning that much more traumatic for her. He didn't want his progeny to start her new life with post traumatic stress disorder.

Also, he hated going to sleep with dirty teeth. Dawn was here, and he knew she'd be asleep already. A younger vampire could not resist the pull of the sun. His toothbrush could wait.

#

Pam lied spread eagle in her bed with a big smile on her sleeping face. She was dreaming that she was the queen of the kingdom of Prada. She lived in a giant, pink, Prada shoe and had so many sex slaves she didn't know what to do. She lounged on pastel colored cushions on the floor while members of her harem fed her AB- blood and fanned her with a giant feather fan. She was in a giant, pale pink ball gown. Her female attendants wore nothing but lei's and tiny grass skirts. Her male attendants mostly wore black rimmed glasses, khakis, and shirts buttoned all the way up. And of course, they all had pocket protectors.

"My lady, an emissary from the kingdom of Tiffany's has arrived," announced the herald, who had forgone the lei for merely a flower over each nipple.

"Let him in," Pam announced. She made an imperious gesture with her hand and everyone ooohhed as the emissary stepped into sight. It was a blond woman who swayed her hips seductively as she stepped closer to Pam. The emissary wore a veil that covered the bottom half of her face.

Pam could see that this messenger's glittery outfit was nothing but a long strand of diamonds that wound around the neck, breasts, and hips. The diamond dress would sparkle and shift with the woman's every step, giving a little peek here and there, but never of the good parts.

The emissary took off her veil with a flourish and a smile. It was Sookie Stackhouse. Pam sucked in her breath as Sookie stepped so close she was practically standing on Pam's gigantic skirt.

"A gift from the queen of Tiffany's," purred Sookie. She turned around, moved all of her hair to the front of her shoulder, and slowly untied a clasp at the base of her neck while every eye watched. She paused with the undone end of each strand in between her fingertips, then suddenly opened her fingers, letting the entire diamond string fall to the floor, most of it spilling on Pam's skirt and lap. Pam almost passed out. Her courtiers gasped. One of them swooned.

Sookie stood naked (minus a set of clear heeled Jimmy Choo's) with her back still to Pam. She turned around again, smiling coyly all the time. Pam swallowed.

"My queen hopes you will enjoy her gift," Sookie whispered, her face inches from the vampire's.

"Very much so," croaked Pam.

"And my gift?"

"What could that possibly be?" Pam glanced down at Sookie's Jimmy Choo's.

Sookie straightened up and pressed into the back of Pam's head. Pam found her face smothered into Sookie's silky blond hair. Not the hair on her head.

"The one thing that will make vampires crazy," came the seductive reply. "My precious fairy vagina."

Pam moaned and began to enjoy the precious fairy vagina in earnest. She got up on her knees so she could have better reach.

Then she felt a hard smack on her bottom. She gasped. Who would _dare_ strike the queen of Prada! She whipped around, fangs out, but she was met with an even harder smack.

"Bad girl!" scolded Dana Marsh. She wore a tight leather suit jacket with nothing underneath. Her breasts were prominently displayed between the lapels of the jacket. Her mini skirt barely covered her ass and was made of a stretchy black lace.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," Pam bowed humbly. She reached down and kissed Dana's 5 inch spikes.

"Who is this whore?" Dana demanded. She slapped Sookie in the face.

"Slut!" cried Sookie.

Then Pam wisely backed away and watched as Dana and Sookie clawed, scratched, and wrestled each other while crying things like "She's mine!" and "You're such a skank!" A lot of hair went flying around and any remaining clothing tore. After 15 whole minutes of cat fighting, they decided to make up by making out while ignoring Pam. After 5 minutes of this, they decided to share Pam.

Pam would have orgasmed a much longer time ago if Dana and Sookie had not decided to be fair and take turns between Pam's legs while the other took care of her upper body.

"Shall we make her beg?" Dana crooned sadistically.

"Shall we bite her?" came Sookie's mischievous reply.

"Oh yes, please, yes!" cried Pam, her back arching.

Dana nuzzled Pam's neck. "Eric makes us beg."

Pam blinked, but brushed it off.

Sookie pressed into Pam, making her cry out. "Eric likes to bite."

Pam pursed her lips for the slightest second, then lost herself in sheer bliss again.

Dana licked a breast. "Eric likes to do that," she purred.

Sookie squeezed Pam's butt. Hard. "Eric likes that," she moaned.

"Could we not talk about my maker?" Pam gasped. "I'm trying to have an orgasm here."

Sookie and Dana pouted in the sexiest way. Then Dana and Sookie switched places again and Dana lowered her face into Pam's wetness. Sookie bit Pam's nipple, hard.

"Eric!" cried Dana, her voice muffled.

"Eric!" repeated Sookie.

Pam decided she didn't care. She was almost there, then Dana lifted her face, and Pam screamed in disgust. Dana had Eric's face, but with brown hair. His mouth and chin were dripping with her fluids. Undaunted, Sookie pressed her lips against Pam's. Pam relaxed, then stiffened when she felt a pair of fangs that were not her own. They were Sookie's. Well that was ok. But what was this? Stubble? Sookie pulled away, and she had Eric's face.

"Eric, I'm busy!" Pam cried. Exasperated, she shoved the two Eric's away. "Go away!" Then they turned back into Dana and Sookie, much to Pam's relief.

"Well ladies," smiled Pam. "Where were we?"

"About to orgasm" replied a disembodied male voice. Pam groaned. She'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was her maker.

The real Eric strode into view. He whipped off his animal hide loincloth and sprayed greenish gray semen over her entire harem while Pam raged.

She woke up, feeling filthy and dissatisfied. She took the pillow from between her legs and threw it across the room.

As she fell back asleep, she tried to have the good parts of the dream again, but the only dreams she had were of being chased by gigantic white balls that threatened to roll over her. She even had to abandon her Coach pumps so she could run faster. She did not sleep well that day.

**AN**: Let me know what you think of Baby Vamp Dana, Papa Vamp Eric, and Big Sis Pam! Are their characters still plausible? Too OOC?

I'm going to be honest. I'm really, REALLY not big on stories that have Eric creating another child. And yet, here I did it! I just see so much more potential with the not so law abiding, PR conscious Eric and the very law abiding Dana as his progeny, now bound to obey him. I'm not sure if I did the right thing.

I just read a Charlaine Harris interview where she said Eric has another child we haven't met yet, and that just bowled me over.


	14. Chapter 14

I stretched as I cracked my eyes open, wondering why the sunlight wasn't streaming through my bedroom window like it usually did. I sighed contentedly as I snuggled up against the cool, hard body sharing my bed. I pulled my wrist away from my mouth, apparently I had been slurping on it much like a baby sucks its thumb. I watched, in a fascinated daze as the two puncture marks on my inner wrist disappeared before my eyes. I touched my fangs with a finger, they were slick with my own blood. A large hand smoothed the hair away from my face and a pair of lips kissed my hair. I tilted my head towards… Uh oh. Fangs, drinking blood, Eric Northman, trouble.

#

Pam knew she was bleeding. The cords cut into her hands, imposing a weight that was burdensome even for a century old vampire.

_Must go on_, she thought to herself. _Car is not far away_. She was not going to abandon her precious cargo. Her hands would heal. She transferred a shopping bag from her right to her left hand, but that was no help. She then set all of her bags down and wearily sank into a bench, next to an old lady with an oxygen tank.

Pam glanced at her new companion. Maybe a quick drink would replenish her strength… There weren't too many people around at this hour. She scooted closer to her meal to be. It seemed to be dozing off as the oxygen tank wheezed.

"I've been coming here every night," commented the snack. Pam froze. Maybe a little glamour first, but the old lady kept her eyes half closed. "When I was younger, all I wanted was flowers and babies. Now I got a big garden in the yard and 15 grandchildren." She chuckled. "But before I die, I gotta see one of those vampers first. Then I'll have done it all!"

Pam thought about giving the woman a Fangtasia flyer then decided against it. A visitor like that would ruin the ambience.

"If I still drove, I'd truck myself over to that vampire bar and find me a real hunky," the human continued. "But my kiddies said no to that, you'll have to do your sightseeing where there's plenty of lighting and witnesses. So they've been dropping me off here for an hour every night." She sighed.

Enough of this yammering. The grandmother started to nod off, and Pam leaned into her neck.

"Granny?"

Pam froze, her lips inches from her meal to be's neck. She hastily retracted her fangs. A human teenager with dyed red and black locks and a nose piercing stood several feet away. She locked eyes with Pam. "Granny!" repeated the teen. Granny gave a start and opened her eyes. She turned towards Pam as well.

Before Pam could speak, she saw a vampire security guard out of the corner of her eye. He too was staring. So Pam did what any sensible being would do. She improvised. She planted a light kiss on Granny's cheek.

"You're such a dear," cooed Pam with hidden loathing. She even wiped off her lipstick off of Granny's cheek with a thumb.

"Oh my, dear, you're so cold," marveled Granny. "As cold as a…" she twisted around to get a better look at Pam, who managed to stretch her lips into a saccharine smile. Granny clapped her hands while the teen looked alarmed. "Now I've seen it all! Delilah, take a picture with me and this vamper with that telephone of yours."

Pam grit her teeth, but posed with a fangy grimace that wasn't just for show. Then Granny and Co. finally left. She stared down the security guard, who looked away first. Then she noticed a pudgy, middle aged woman who had been watching with horrified fascination. Ehhhh. Oh, what the hell_._ There was a bathroom right around the corner. They even have bigger stalls that could fit two people. She smiled, for real this time.

#

Eric was doing his vampire voodoo magic on me again, to make me infatuated with him. Or maybe he wasn't actively doing it, but just looking at him, breathing in his scent made me feel… affection? for him. I had never felt anything of the sort before.

"Don't touch me," I rasped. It took effort just to get those words out because instead I wanted to tell him to touch me.

He laughed as if my request was ludicrous. "I'm supposed to touch you. I'm your maker."

That was beside the point. I slowly backed away. He lazily stretched on the bed, giving me a good eyeful of toned tummy. I averted my eyes. I spied my purse on a table and snatched it up.

Eric yawned. "I'll heat you some breakfast in a moment. You can leave your wallet here."

I ran towards the door but it was locked. What kind of sick fuck locks their own bedroom when they're living alone? I threw a bolt, another one, turned the locks this way and that, but I could not get the door open. I was half starved and panicking, I could barely see or think straight. I kept jiggling the knob as if it would give. I also kicked the (steel) door several times and probably broke my bare toes. I wanted to cry. How stupid was I? I couldn't even unlock a door. If you took away the law degree and fancy suits, I was nothing but a bureaucrat with a big mouth and zero survival skills. If I were a character in some action adventure, I'd be one of the extras that got stomped on by Godzilla or maimed while the heroine used that distraction to make her harrowing escape.

Eric just watched, looking a little disappointed and borderline irritated. What a psycho. Who was _he _to get annoyed that his captive couldn't open the door that _he _had locked to keep me imprisoned? I shrank back as he glided over to me but he simply flipped some locks the other way and pushed the door open.

"Use your brain, not brute force," the Viking chided me. He tapped my temple with his finger. "Don't leave your wits in the courtroom."

Now my eyes did well up with tears. It sounded exactly like the kind of thing my mother would say. I wondered if I would ever see her again. I turned away and hobbled out. Goddamnit. The rest of the place was a maze. Where was the exit?

Eric followed me. "I was harsh," he admitted gently. "You're barely two nights old and you're hungry." With that, he scooped me up, took me to the kitchen, and set me down on a stool. He put one bottle of True Blood and a clear, unmarked pouch of red liquid in the microwave. He set it to 40 seconds, then crouched in front of me to examine my "boo boo," as he called it.

"Nothing broken," he announced.

I stared as my black and blue toes rapidly changed back to their regular color. Amazing. He gave them a kiss. "All better," he murmured. I shivered. Then he brushed his lips against my ankle. Then the side of my calf. Then my knee. His hand slid up my thigh and my fangs clicked out. Then the microwave beeped. I silently swore as he calmly went to the microwave and pulled a straw out of one of the drawers. He stuck it in the pouch, like a Capri Sun, and offered it to me. He took a long swig of the True Blood.

I stared long and hard at the pouch, wondering if he had drugged it. Why did he get to drink out of the sealed bottle while I got the mystery blood?

"It's still fresh," he told me. "AB negative."

I didn't want to take his food or accept his hospitality. But hunger won out and I drained the pouch in about 5 seconds. He looked as a pleased as a glacier can look, even more so as I went through 10 more of those packs. Then he was out.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. It was very rude of me to take all his food. I shifted uncomfortably. Should I offer him money to pay him back for all the blood? But technically I was still a kidnapping victim. Or was I free to leave? I might need whatever resources I had left in my purse when I finally made my escape. If I ever got around to it.

Now that I had eaten my fill, I could think more clearly. I was less panicky. _Humanize yourself,_ were the first words in the chapter titled _How to Survive a Hostage Situation_ in one of the books I had happened to browse through at Barnes and Noble on a boring day. _Get the hostile to emphasize with you. Emphasize with the hostile. _Unfortunately, I had not bothered to read the rest of the book. At least this was a start.

I looked steadily at Eric, and he looked back. His face was a stony blank but there was something soft in his eyes. Or maybe I was imagining it.

"You have the cutest itty bitty fangs," he cooed. He took my hands and waved them around.

I blinked. Ok, if he kept talking like that, he'd just make it easier for me to NOT be turned on by his charms. Was he a pedophile or something? Why else would he baby talk to me in one minute, and seduce me in the next? Or actually, didn't vampires almost always have sex with their children? I was his child, wasn't I? I thought I had heard something about "vampire incest". I had dismissed it as anti vampire propaganda, but come to think of it, Eric and I weren't biologically related. We couldn't procreate with sex. Thus there was no reason for sex to be taboo between maker and progeny. We were free to consummate all of the four types of love: affection, friendship, romance, and unconditional love. It was really beautiful, in a way. But it wasn't for me. This was the modern world where vampires were out in the open and could have their pick of any willing human to turn. I had not been one of them.

"Now look here, Eric," I said in my best reasonable tone. He regarded me seriously. "I have family, friends, a full time job, you can't just keep me around like a pet or something."

He sort of smiled. "Is that what you think you are? A pet?" He repeated the last word slowly. He tickled me under the chin and I closed my eyes at his touch. Mmm. I sat up straighter.

"That's not the important part," I said sternly. "I know you might have some… concerns… as to how we'll explain my… current situation to everyone else, but we can think of something. I'll just say I fell down the stairs or something, it would have been fatal, you heard the commotion, you rushed over and saved my life."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Or we can come up with something better," I amended hastily. I made a lousy hostage negotiator. "The important thing is, I understand. I get it. You had no choice, right? It was me or Sookie. You couldn't let Freyda have Sookie, you love her. She means a lot to you." I hoped I guessed right. From the slightest flicker of his eyes, I had. "But me, I was just an unfortunate pawn. Freyda wanted me and was willing to swap me for Sookie. It could have been anyone else. Of course you'd give me up for someone you love. I would have done the same thing with you had I been in your situation!" I gave a nervous laugh. I would have given up Eric, or any other semi stranger, in a hummingbird's heartbeat to protect my father, mother, or brother. Was it fair? Legal? Moral? No. Was it my place to decide which life was worthier of saving? No. But it would have been the human thing to do. I'd draw the line at my cat, albeit painfully.

"Even if I did go to the authorities, and you did face criminal charges, no jury in the world would convict you," I babbled. Actually, the jury would have never learned of his reasons for giving me to Freyda, for his motives would have been considered irrelevant and kept out of the trial. But he didn't need to know that.

"You could have just left me to die, you could have just fled the scene and no one would have implicated you, but you chose to save my life instead." I stared at him eagerly, hoping my words were assuaging him. I couldn't read his face, but _I _was the one feeling persuaded. If someone held a gun to my head, or rather, a stake to my heart, I'd spill the beans. But now that I had articulated the thoughts that had been buzzing at the back of my mind, I couldn't see myself turning him in. I was willing to cover up for him. I hoped this was because of my own sense of right and wrong, rather than Stockholm syndrome or vampire imprinting.

He didn't speak for the longest time. He just looked at me. Then he kissed the back of my hand. It was then I knew, through some sort of instinct or vamp psychic ability, that he would never harm me. I felt a rush of tenderness from him, it was hard to explain. It was almost as if I could sense his emotions. What the hell was this? There had to be a way to get rid of it. It freaked me out.

"I want my life back," I said softly, even though we both knew that would never happen. But I wanted to reclaim what was left of it. "I want to go home. I have to get back to work. I want to see people I know."

The corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement, and I realized it was never his intention to keep me prisoner. Perhaps he had merely taken me in out of charity, or a sense of paternal obligation. Or, more likely, he didn't want a PR mess where the media found out an innocent woman had been turned and abandoned. Or killed at a vampire hotel.

"I built you a play room," he told me with the air of informing me he had cleared out some closet space to make room for my clothes. He wrapped an arm around my waist and picked me up. He propped me against his hip like a laundry basket, so I wrapped my legs around his front and back. We were getting way too cozy but it felt right. Any remaining apprehensions I had about him died away as I buried my cheek in his shoulder. He gave me a little pat on my bum, as one would do to a horse or a dog. This was a truly strange relationship we were developing. I didn't care. Or did I?

He took us up the stairs and to the roof level. It was a giant, open space with a bunch of dirt. Nothing but rich, brown soil piled up in what used to be a swimming pool. I could tell by the shape and the numbers on the ground it had been a deep lap pool. The earth called to me. The smell of the dirt was soothing, I wanted to feel it against my bare skin.

I did something I would have never done as a grown woman, I jumped into the dirt, yellow bathrobe and all. I laughed as I burrowed inside and spun around like a chinchilla taking a dust bath. I threw mounds of soil in the air and kicked my feet, creating a big cloud.

Even in my ecstatic joy, a tiny part of me mourned the loss of my humanity, my normalcy. Nonetheless, I giggled with glee as Eric dived in and created even more dust clouds.

Human Dana would have balked about wrestling in the dirt with any male she barely knew, e_specially _Eric Northman, who was intimidating, frosty, and fanged. Vampire Dana couldn't wait to snuggle with her maker and doze off in his arms. And so she did, like the baby she was. He held her tight, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Even though they were buried in the dirt.

#

Replenished and satisfied, Pam charged on with new purpose. While at Macy's, she picked out a baby blue, cashmere sweater for Eric, and a pink cardigan for herself. She realized she should probably get something for Dana so she didn't feel left out.

Pam looked at the store map and saw that the baby section was on Level 2. Once on level 2, she found herself surrounded by a lovely array of pastels. But all of the clothes were miniature models for some reason. Doll sized. Dana would never fit in these.

Pam went over to a table of giant purses. She picked one that was pastel plaid and had funny designs all over it. They reminded her of nipples, but with rings. She peered inside another bag that had a cartoon bear dipping his paw in a pot of "Hunny." Pam liked honies and honey pots.

"More space for diapers!" The tag exclaimed. Pam didn't know what a diaper was and didn't care. The bag even had compartments that were the perfect size for holding bottles. Then she saw a Britney Spears bag a few aisles down. It was more of a box with a handle. She meandered over to examine the box bag that had one of her favorite faces on it.

"Who are you shopping for?" asked a matronly woman. She was near the end of her shift and eager to make a sale before she went home for the night. Her managers were always on her ass about sale numbers.

Pam ignored the saleswoman completely.

"Those lunch boxes are real sturdy," the human persisted. "Your girl likes Britney Spears?"

Pam looked up. "I do not know," she admitted. She hadn't thought of that. Eric had once mentioned that heterosexual human women had a tendency to dislike other women, especially beautiful ones. Pam thought Britney was very beautiful, almost as much as herself.

"How big is she?"

Pam thought of how Eric towered over Dana. "She's about the runtiest thing I've ever seen."

The human faked a chuckle. "She'll go through a growth spurt sooner or later. How old?"

"A few nights or so." The vampire shrugged.

The saleswoman balked. "_Well_," she said. "Britney Spears is _not _age appropriate." She smiled as she firmly extricated the lunch box from Pam's bewildered grasp. "I have just the right thing…"

Ten minutes later, Pam had forked over $35.95 plus tax for a pink, vinyl "lunch box" that featured the cartoon figure of a pretty blond woman wearing a crown and pink dress. A white castle glittered in the background. The box even had a matching canteen inside. They were both insulated, the saleswoman promised it would keep the contents warm.

_What a steal_, Pam thought. Her cheapest purse cost 10 times this amount. She hoped Dana would not be insulted to be presented with such a cheap brand. She had never even heard of _Disney_ before.

#

New maker or no, the sheriff of Area 5 was a busy vampire. After what seemed like too little time, Eric floated us out of the dirt pool.

"We're going to be late," he told me. "I need to check in with the sheriff of Area 4 today."

I tried to insist that I had to get to work too, but he'd have none of it.

"After this," he promised. "Tonight you are not leaving my sight." With that, he smiled and hoisted me in the air, much like one would do with a toddler. I laughed and gurgled accordingly, I couldn't help it. Then he flung me up so high, I swear I must have traveled at 30 miles an hour on the way down.

"Wheeeee!" I cried. This was so much fun. All the loose dirt from my hair rained down on us as I spun around in the air.

He easily caught me in his arms and repeated the process a few more times, until I eventually lost my bathrobe and did not have a single grain of dirt on my body. I was however, slightly dusty.

He examined me critically. Then, to my morbid horror, he spit liberally into both hands and started rubbing me down! I squawked and tried to run away but he held me tight. Realizing there was no escape, I merely hunched miserably as he scrubbed me with the clinical efficiency of a janitor wiping down a statue. I just hoped he wouldn't find it necessary to bend me over and lick my anus clean, as if I were some kitten. This was really gross, but effective. I had never known that vampire spit had body wash properties.

"Why can't I just shower?" I complained.

"You'll clog my drain again," he replied sensibly. Then he shooed me back into the living quarters where he found me something to wear for the meeting with this sheriff of Area 4. Apparently he had brought some of my clothes over. He changed his own clothes in the other room.

When we got to his Corvette, Eric's black leather jacket fell open and I gave a double take. His tight navy shirt read "**Yale Law Dad**" in white letters. Why would an ancient vampire wear something like that? Was he secretly a founding father of the school? Or was it a trophy scrounged off of one of his meals? _Omg_. Oh _no_. Had he stolen it from MY dad? Was he sending me some sort of sick message or something, to forget my human family, he was all I had now?

I did a quick mental inventory of Dad's collegiate wardrobe. He _did_ have a shirt that read, "My child went to Yale and all I got was this T shirt and a bunch of debt." He had a funny sense of humor.

I suspiciously examined Eric's shirt. It looked new and it threatened to tear on him. I breathed a little easier, not that I needed to breathe at all. Anymore. There was no way in hell that tiny piece of fabric would have ever fit my dad.

When we arrived at Fangtasia, Eric took me straight through the back and into his office, where three vampires were waiting. I presumed the one on the sofa was the sheriff of area 4. He resembled a teenage boy but I could tell he was actually quite ancient, maybe in the hundreds. He was sporting a bright red STANFORD shirt. What was this, homecoming week? The vampire sitting next to him, about 6 months old, looked bored. He fiddled with his Blackberry. He wore a black suit and had INVESTMENT BANKER written all over him. Or maybe he was a stock broker. They were all the same to me.

Pam was lovely in a pale pink sheathe and a white knit with little flowers all over it. If the Queen of England invited her to a tea party, she'd be set to go. She primly sat in one of the chairs next to Eric's desk, looking strangely out of place in an office setting.

"Blackburn," Eric nodded stiffly at the teen. Another nod at the investment banker. "Joseph, you've grown." A perfunctory and revealing compliment. I never knew vampires grew. Maybe he meant it metaphorically.

"Eric!" Blackburn bellowed with a grin. "Is this your little one?" He looked at me up and down. "We got you good in the Big Game!" he laughed with mock friendly rivalry. "We gave you the axe! Right in the neck!" He made a familiar chopping motion with his hands.

Was he talking to me? The what? Oh. The football game. It was news to me that a) the Cal v. Stanford game had happened recently and b) Stanford had won. Yawn. There was a saying that there were people who went to "Cal" and those who went to "University of California Berkeley." The former burned red shirts, hated "Stanf_urd_ Leland _Junior_ College," and rioted whenever the school lost a football game. The latter burned flags, hated capitalism, and rioted whenever the cops tried to harass homeless people. Guess where I had went? Not that it mattered much, my bachelor's degree ended up being the most useless thing on earth. That's what I got for picking a humanities major, I suppose.

Blackburn smiled broadly. "Did you watch the game? You know what we say about you folks?" He wagged a finger at me as he sang, "Safety schooool." I could sense Eric fuming next to me but Blackburn chortled as if we were old friends and we teased each other like this all the time. "What was the other one? Oh right." He cleared his throat. "Ree-jeected." He pointed a finger at me with his mocking sing song. "Acceeepted." He pointed at his progeny, who didn't pause to look up from the Blackberry. The sheriff of area 4 chuckled again. The sheriff of area 5 just glared.

What a tool. My smile became more strained. At least my alma mater's mascot wasn't a Christmas tree. So what if I had been rejected by Stanford? I wouldn't have gone anyway.

"Did you hug all the trees while you were at Cal?" the tool continued with a big indulging smile.

"Not every tree deserves a hug," I replied sweetly. I felt my school spirit rising to unprecedented heights. Sooner or later I'd start singing _Fight for California_, not that I knew the lyrics.

An awkward pause. Then, "Joseph went to Stanford."

No shit.

"He graduated magna cum laude and won an award for his economics thesis."

"I… wrote a thesis." I countered lamely.

"Dana got Best Trial Attorney of the Year," Eric interjected suddenly. How did he know that? It was just a hokey inter office thing. Everyone got their turn.

"Joseph serves as an advisor to the Federal Reserve."

"Dana want to Yale law school."

"Joseph went to Harvard business school."

Eric looked at me. I looked back. I had nothing.

"Pam went to Mrs. Witherington's School of Etiquette for Young Ladies," Pam offered, sounding as bored as a bored vampire can be. "I didn't realize this was a dog show, are we going to keep comparing pedigrees?"

Everyone glanced at her for a moment.

"Pam made her first kill when she was 5 nights old," Eric said smugly. She _had_? I hoped no one was expecting me to make a kill. That was illegal. And gross. I didn't even like touching raw chicken meat.

"Rachna glamoured her first human when she was 2 weeks old." Apparently Blackburn had an older child.

"Pam once fought off a pack of weres when she was two."

"Rachna can skin the hide off of a were in 50 seconds."

"Pam doesn't want to spend all night with any of you," Pam snapped. "Can we get started?"

And so they did. It was the most boring conversation ever, about cutting down on bureaucracy and lifting checking in requirements between Areas 4 and 5 to encourage the flow of vampire migration. It went on and on for about an hour. I sated my constant hunger pangs by drinking from Eric, but it wasn't really filling. His blood felt more like a vitamin supplement than an actual meal.

After a lot of uncharacteristic fussing on my part, Eric finally gave in and let me roam the bar on my own. "Don't go outside," he instructed firmly. "If you're going to eat anyone, bring them back here."

I found none of the bar patrons appealing. The willing would be donors all had dark shadows under their eyes and an unhealthy pallor. I was looking for something more… juicy and tender. Like pork chops or carnitas, not beef jerky. I spied a fat man (he had an enormous beer belly and 4 chins) and rubbed my empty stomach. I think I may have licked my lips. But by the way he shrank from my gaze, he was just here to gawk. I sighed.

I went to the bar and got a True Blood. The bartender didn't even try to charge me. I took a sip and wanted to weep in despair. It was worse than that Lite Mocha Frappachino at Starbucks. Or cardboard soaked in beef stock and sand.

A girl with eyeliner like a raccoon's sidled up to me. "I got the real thing, Pretty," she cooed. She tilted her head to the side and stroked her neck.

I wrinkled my nose. She had acne on her neck, of all places. I shivered and thanked all the gods that I had been blessed with clear skin. I wondered what pus would taste like and quickly shook the thought away. Eewewew.

A punk frat boy approached me as well. "Hey honey, I'll show you a good time," he sneered. He made a thrusting gesture with his hips. Lovely. I could smell the beer on his breath and a trace of urine on his right hand. Then he reached for me with said right hand.

With a screech of disgust, I somehow leaped over the counter and found myself crouched behind the bar, by the bartender's feet. He chuckled and gave me a pat on the head.

A pair of pink pumps appeared in my line of view. Each shoe must have cost more than my monthly salary.

"What's this?" Pam drawled. "When I was your age, I would eat everything I could get my fangs on. Children these days are so spoiled, I'm telling you." She and the bartender exchanged a _look_.

"They're all so disgusting," I grumbled.

"You are a failure of a vampire," she announced. Was that affection in her voice? She unceremoniously threw me over her shoulder like a pack of potatoes and marched us back to the office. Blackburn and his overachieving progeny had already left.

A young man was sitting on the sofa. Eric didn't look up from his papers. "I got you some lunch," he said. Pam tied something around my neck but I was too distracted to care.

I stared at the human, and he looked back. Gross. My meal was blinking at me. So not ok.

I was a city girl. I expected the food on my plate to be dead, fully cooked, and unrecognizable as the animal it once was. I could make an exception for fish, since fish don't have eyelids.

"You're not going anywhere until you eat your lunch," said Papa Vamp. He was putting his big foot down. Pam looked like she could laugh.

"You're going to make me late for work." Later than I already was.

"Then eat your lunch."

"I'll have a True Blood."

"I'm supposed to limit the synthetic in your diet until you're two weeks old."

"I'll get blood on my blouse." I had gotten it on sale, but it was still a really nice blouse. It was hard to find anything that was this beautiful, brilliant shade of teal.

"That's what the bib is for."

I looked down. It was barely big enough to cover a single breast. It was soft yellow and had a picture of the Cat in the Hat.

Pam beamed, proud of her selection. "I know you like felines," she told me. How thoughtful.

"I'll ruin my makeup. Can't you just collect it in a cup for me?" Then I could drink it in on the road, while not looking or thinking about where the blood came from.

Eric siiiiiiggghhed. He did a lot of that these days. As if waving a white flag, he reached into his desk and pulled out a small cardboard box from . It was full of large syringes. He took one of the syringes, cut off the blunt end, and threw away the plunger. He stuck the needle in the fangbanger's vein, and the open ended tube filled with blood.

A straw.


End file.
